


Chrom Night

by FireKing



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 20:54:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireKing/pseuds/FireKing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost everyone at Ylisse High has been waiting for prom night for months. Now, it's finally here, and everyone's stories will wind together to create a night no one will ever forget.</p><p>Long story short: take the characters from Fire Emblem: Awakening and put them in a high school setting. That's the sort of universe this takes place in. It's an AU lovingly crafted by my girlfriend and I, with a few dynamic touches from our friends along the way. All that inspired me to put this together. </p><p>Every major character save for the Avatar/Robin is present or at least mentioned. FE:A has a wide cast of great characters and I try really hard to make sure none of them gets sold short.</p><p>This is presented in three parts. Part One is a series of short vignettes which tell a series of tales of how things go for everyone in the hours leading up to prom. Part Two will deal with the prom itself and all the shenanigans that take place during it. Part Three will deal with what happens after prom and, believe me, there's a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One: The Buildup

**Author's Note:**

> A few things to address:
> 
> \- This is rated PG. There is just a little bit of alcohol use as well as a few minor cusses, but nothing too bad.  
> \- In this high school AU, the "second generation" (Lucina, Cynthia, etc.) are cousins of the first generation instead of their children.  
> \- Likewise, characters like Basilio, Flavia, and Gregor are teachers.  
> \- You can read more about the high school AU in general here: http://pastebin.com/Mba7PbzE  
> \- I tried to avoid concrete pairings since one of the defining traits of FE:A is the freedom of choosing your own. However, a few slipped through the cracks but don't worry, this doesn't focus on any one ship.  
> \- I hope you enjoy!

It was, as far as he knew, just another Saturday in late April. More importantly, it was baseball season but with no games or practice to be concerned about, he was content to sip Dr. Pepper and play his Xbox 360 while he waited for the sun to set. It was a nice day, yes, but it was one of his self-designated “Don’t Feel Like Going Outside” days, so he was still in his pajamas even though it was the late afternoon. It was, as far as he knew, just another Saturday in late April.  
For the redhead waiting patiently outside, however, it was prom night. Every moment since she had woken up that morning had been spent making sure that this day, this night, this life-defining event would be absolutely perfect. There had to be a perfectly good reason he hadn’t met her yet, she thought. She was, of course, a few minutes early. Plus, he was probably taking as much care as she did to make sure he looked the part. They were going to definitely win prom king and queen! There was no doubt in her mind.  
She closed her eyes, leaned against her car, and let out a contented sigh. The sound of another car driving up startled her, however. Perhaps…perhaps that was him! He was definitely coming back from somewhere where had gotten completely decked out in a tuxedo that would perfectly match her dress! Then, she remembered. Wait. He doesn’t have a car. He doesn’t even have his driver’s licence. Who was that driving up?  
Oh. My. God. What is _she_ doing here?  
Apparently, the other girl was thinking the exact same thing.  
“Cordelia?” she said as she stepped out of the car. “What are you doing here?”  
“I’m Chrom’s prom date,” she replied confidently, tacking on a smile at the end. “What are _you_ doing here?”  
Sumia paused before answering. “Um…I’m Chrom’s prom date.” This obviously was some sort of misunderstanding, both of the girls thought. Cordelia, for one, was absolutely certain that she was Chrom’s prom date. It had taken months of working up courage to ask him, and when he said “sure,” her heart nearly burst with excitement. As for Sumia, she was equally certain, because of the equal amount of effort it had taken to work up the courage to ask him and the equal amount of nonchalance Chrom had responded with.   
There was a bit of silence between them before Sumia forced a pained chuckle. Cordelia frowned. “Well? We can’t _both_ go with Chrom. Which one of us asked him first? That should settle it.”  
Sumia stuttered. “W—well, I asked him on January 23rd. Right after fourth period.” Cordelia did a double take. She had also asked Chrom to prom on January 23rd right after fourth period.   
“That—so did I, Sumia.” They looked at each other until Sumia looked away. “Sumia. Look at me.” She didn’t. “We have to settle this somehow. Obviously, this is all a big misunderstanding. Maybe you just heard him saying yes to me and thought he had said yes to you!” Flawless logic, in her mind.  
“Um, that doesn’t make any sense, Cordelia. There has to be some other way we can settle this fairly.” She turned and looked up Chrom’s house’s driveway and then towards the front porch and finally towards the door. “And we have to do it quick before Chrom comes out. I don’t want him seeing…both of us here.”  
Cordelia thought for a bit and then nodded. “Alright. Whoever doesn’t win will just calmly get in their car and drive away. Deal?” Sumia nodded. “Okay. Best two out of three.” Cordelia held out both of her hands, one with an open palm and one in a balled up fist.  
Meanwhile, Chrom was still in his pajamas, dozing on the couch.

-

“You know, Flavia,” the gruff and husky man said while leaning back in a chair in the teacher’s lounge, “I think it was rigged.”  
“I agree. This is the third straight year we drew the marked lots and got stuck chaperoning at prom. The other teachers have something against us, Basilio.”  
“And it’s not just because we’re gym teachers! Walhart’s never had to do a damned prom!” Basilio became so impassioned that his chair nearly fell over backwards, but he overcorrected and instead landed forward with a loud thud.  
Flavia smiled. “Calm down, old friend. I believe I have found a way to make this night a little less awful.” With that, Flavia opened a knapsack and removed a large bottle of rum as well as a pair of shot glasses. “I believe we’re tied overall. Now is the perfect time to settle the score.”  
“Hell yeah! Now we’re talking!” Basilio snapped up one of the shot glasses and—with the determination of a man who hates doing things he doesn’t want to do—did something he very much wanted to do. He slammed the shot glass down on the table and asserted, “First one out of their chair loses!”

-

To be honest, he didn’t really need a blueprint. But after watching so many heist movies, he couldn’t help but spring for the cool-ass feeling of unfurling a detailed blueprint as the rest of his cronies looked on. In truth, the plan was simple. Kellam was going to take the chocolate fountain, and Gaius was going to take all the credit. Panne and her cousin Yarne were the reconnaissance team, though Yarne had been paranoid about getting in trouble for the last couple of weeks.  
This was Gaius’s revenge for when he got caught lifting pastries from the bake sale last year. That—among other things—was what led him to randomly drop out near the beginning of this school year despite perfectly good grades. Now, he was going to return and strike on a night when everyone would feel it: prom night.  
The blueprint in and of itself was pretty simple. There were a bunch of stick figures in what looked like dresses and tuxedos on one side and on the other side was the snack area, with various hors d’oeuvres and the chocolate fountain circled multiple times. Next to it was a stick figure labeled “Kellam” and a cart swiped from the gymnasium. Kellam would take the chocolate fountain, put it on the cart, and wheel it out the back door where Gaius would be waiting in his hatchback for the getaway. It was foolproof.  
The four of them were in his basement, and he had the rolled up blueprint on a table, ready for the dramatic unfurling. When the moment came, Gaius failed to seize it and instead got a nasty paper cut, much to Panne’s amusement.

-

At a house down the street from where a pair of girls in prom dresses had lost count of how many games of rock paper scissors they had played and now were beginning to argue, an almost painfully well-dressed young man waited outside his bathroom.  
“Lissa. It has been several minutes. If I recall correctly, you said that your date would be here at six o’clock. It is five minutes until six o’clock.”  
“Jeez, he’s not running on nuclear time or anything!” a voice rang back from inside the bathroom. “Besides, you know how long it takes for me to get my hair perfect.”  
“I understand that. I just wish you had taken my advice and started getting ready earlier.”  
“Prom’s not even for another two hours!”  
“This is true, but you have dinner reservations at 6:30 and, according to Google Maps, MapQuest, and Yahoo Maps, it should take about an average of seventeen minutes to get there. From six o’clock, that only allows thirteen minutes for the necessary pre-prom traditions—not to mention pictures.”  
The door flew open all of a sudden, startling the young man. “Look. Frederick. We’ll be fine.” She smiled. “You know I work best when I don’t have a schedule.”  
Frederick was momentarily unable to respond, as he was so taken aback by his good friend’s beauty. “Lissa, you look—I can’t even begin to describe how proud I am of you right now.”  
Lissa cocked her head to one side. “What do you mean? All I did in there was my hair and some makeup.” She began to see a tear roll down Frederick’s cheek and, in response, he quickly bowed his head. “Jesus, Frederick, don’t cry! You’re not even my date!”  
He wiped his face clean with his kerchief and regained his composure. “My apologies, Lissa. It was just a bit overwhelming. You’ve grown so much in the time that I’ve known you and I am so proud of you.”  
Lissa laughed, much to his chagrin. “What are you, my dad?” She extended an arm. “Come on. Let’s go outside. He’ll be here any minute now.”  
Frederick took her arm in his and led her to his front porch. “Now, remind me. What is this young man’s name again?”  
“Donnel! Donny for short. He’s actually a grade below me but he’s so sweet.” Lissa turned to Frederick and smiled again, before having her attention yanked away by the sound of a truck backfiring. “Oh gosh, that must be him!”  
Frederick was confused. Before long, however, a pickup truck leaving a trail of smoke in its wake pulled up to his house and parked right in front of the fire hydrant. Out of it stepped a young man, wearing a dusty tuxedo and holding a single flower, but most remarkable of all was the large pot turned over on his head, much like a hat.  
He was unable to speak, and for several minutes he stood there with his jaw dropped, falling further behind schedule.

-

Tharja and Henry were in the middle of a tiff. Neither of them could remember what had started it, but they both knew that, for some reason that must be a good reason, they weren’t talking to each other anymore. Forever. Also, they were constantly being passive-aggressive to each other, as defined by the terms of a document they had made each other sign when they started high school that had been recycled a year ago and now made up parts of several worksheets they had done in their secondary school career.  
For Tharja, payback for whatever transgression involved going to prom with someone else to make Henry jealous, even though they had agreed long ago that being romantically involved with each other would be an awful idea. The unwilling candidate was a short boy who had skipped a few grades and had yet to graduate from being cute to being handsome. His name was Ricken, and as she tightened his bowtie for him, he felt like a noose was being tightened around his neck. If only he had the courage to have ever told her no…  
For Henry, payback for whatever transgression involved going to prom with someone else to make Tharja jealous, even though they had agreed long ago that being romantically involved with each other would be an awful idea. The candidate who could care less about all of this tomfoolery was the daughter of the school librarian, who very nearly blew up the entire east wing of the school during a chemistry club experiment gone horribly wrong. Her name was Miriel, and she adjusted her glasses calmly inside her bedroom as Henry waited patiently outside. As far as he knew, she was “getting ready,” but she had gotten ready long ago and now was taking the time to relax and do some reading.

-

Inigo casually strolled over to his laptop, pulled up iTunes, and put on Do Ya Think I’m Sexy, as performed by Rod Stewart. He threw on his suit jacket and opened his cologne drawer as he hummed along. Tonight would finally be the night.

-

Stahl, Sully, Sully’s cousin Kjelle, and Vaike were all sitting on the bleachers next to the football field, sharing a bucket of KFC. As the stars of the football team (as well as women’s soccer for Sully and wrestling for Kjelle), they had made the football field their official haunt, and the fact that prom was that night had slipped all of their minds.  
Sully reached down and grabbed a chicken leg, taking a sizable chunk of meat out of it with one bite. As she chewed, she spoke. “I’m bored.” Simple, yet effective.  
Stahl yawned. “Me too. Bored and hungry.” He reached down and grabbed a biscuit. “At least we’re solving one of those problems.”  
Kjelle leaned back and put her hands behind her head. “There’s gotta be something we can do tonight. I don’t have any plans.”  
Vaike pointed to himself triumphantly. “No worries, everyone. The Vaike is sure to find us something to ease our weary minds.”  
Sully laughed. “Don’t bust an eye socket, big guy. We got time.” Having already finished a chicken leg, she reached in for another. “And food.”

-

A cacophony of noise had stirred Chrom from his brief respite and he rose and went to the window to see just what in the world was going on outside. What he saw when he peered outside was a pair of beautiful young women arguing in slowly increasing volume—not to mention the fact that they were both immaculately dressed.  
Chrom put his hand to his chin. Wasn’t there somewhere else they could have their argument? Furthermore, why were they dressed so nice? You don’t get all gussied up just to do some verbal sparring with your friend. By the time the gears in his brain had stopped turning, the women had stopped arguing and had shifted gears entirely, now crying in each other’s arms. That was peculiar. Even more peculiar was the fact that they were now strolling, arm in arm, up Chrom’s driveway and towards his front door.  
He looked down. He was wearing pajama pants but at least they were pants. He ran a hand through his bedhead and went to answer the door. Maybe he’d finally find out what the heck they were doing there. When he answered, both of the women gasped, for reasons beyond his reach.  
“Oh my gosh!” one of them exclaimed, turning to the other. “He must have seen us arguing and decided to quietly dress down!”  
“Wow! Such foresight!” the other one replied. Chrom was having a great deal of difficulty not only discerning what they were talking about but also if they were serious.  
“Well, it’s okay now, Chrom! We’ve decided that instead of taking one of us, you should just take both of us to prom!” the redhead triumphantly declared, smiling in turn with her friend.  
Chrom scratched the back of his head nonchalantly. Prom. Prom. Prom. Oh man. Prom was today. He was unsure if he had a date, but now he figured he had two. Was that legal?  
They pushed themselves into his house, declaring that they’d help him get ready “again.”

-

“Virion, I know I’m not typically one to nitpick, but don’t you think wearing a cravat to prom is … oh, I don’t know, overdoing it just a little?” Cherche asked her date as they stood in her bedroom, she examining her hair in the mirror and he trying and failing to make himself look elegant.  
“Nonsense!” he shot back. “A man’s dress is the utmost indicator of his pride and class, both of which are qualities I do not lack!” He paused to admire the grandeur of his previous statement. “When Virion walks in, the ladies will tremble and fall to their knees, then curse the heavens when they see I already have such a fine maiden in tow!”  
Cherche turned to Virion and smiled. “Well, just remember this ‘fine maiden’ is only going with you as a friend. No funny business, right Minerva?” She turned to the iguana perched on her shoulder and kissed its head.  
Virion shuddered a bit. “You’re not … seriously taking her, are you?”  
“Of course not!” She smiled again. “You’re taking us both!”

-

Basilio and Flavia slammed their shot glasses down on the table. They had both taken four shots of the strongest rum Ylisse County had to offer and neither had even thought of flinching. One very important thought did cross Flavia’s mind, however.  
“Basilio, I just had an important thought cross my mind. How are we going to get to wherever the hell this prom is at?”  
He had the same revelation. “Damn. That’s a good question. We need a DD. I don’t trust you behind the wheel when you’re sober.”  
Flavia punched him in the shoulder. “And I don’t trust you with anything when you’re sober. Are there any other teachers volunteering?”  
As if on cue, there came a knock at the door, then an entrance. “Hello. I am sorry for the dropping of eaves, but I am hearing you are needing designated driver, yes?”

-

“Lissa,” Maribelle said as the party of three approached her party of one, “Can we have a quick conversation in the ladies’ room?”  
“Of course!” Lissa said. She turned to her date and her chaperone, said, “I’ll be right back,” smiled, and ran off to join her BFF.  
Once they had sought privacy in the women’s room of the fancy restaurant they had chosen for their pseudo-double date, Maribelle flipped. “Have you noticed that your date is currently wearing a pot on his head!?”  
“Duh! I think it’s cute. What, is there something wrong with that?”  
Maribelle wrinkled her nose in disgust. “It’s unsightly! It’s rude enough to wear a hat of any kind to prom, but even more so if it’s not even a hat at all! It’s a _pot_ , Lissa! It is something meant for cooking and that poor, misguided boy is wearing it on his _head_!”  
Lissa wrinkled her nose. “So what? Your date isn’t even here yet!”  
Maribelle recoiled a bit in response to her BFF’s harsh words. “About that … he’s in, um, Africa right now.”  
Lissa’s jaw dropped. “Africa!? Why is he in Africa?”  
“Apparently, God called him there. He was very sweet about it, you know. He let me know that no matter how beautiful a young lady was, God’s calling would always take precedence over her. In other words, he thinks I’m beautiful! I already knew that, of course, but hearing it from someone so handsome does wonders for your ego.”  
“Isn’t his hair longer than yours?”  
“That doesn’t make him any less handsome! Regardless, I paid for prom tickets and so I am going to use them. I suppose your father-in-law could make use of one.”  
“God, he is so not my father-in-law.” She took the ticket from Maribelle’s hand. “But he did say they wouldn’t let him volunteer for the fourth year in a row. They probably won’t say no to him if he has a ticket.”  
“Splendid! Plus, he is pretty handsome himself,” Maribelle responded, winking at Lissa.  
“Um, GROSS,” Lissa responded, sticking a tongue out and running out of the bathroom.

-

“Okay. Here’s the plan. From the top. At nine o’clock, prom will have been going on for an hour. Whoever’s checking tickets outside will probably have headed back in by that point. So around then, me and Whiskers will roll up in my hatchback, along with Scaredy Cat and The Invisible Man. From there, I’ll wait in the getaway car while Whiskers and Scaredy Cat scout the getaway route while The Invisible Man gets a cart from the kitchen. That’s Phase One of the plan.  
“Phase Two begins when The Invisible Man has the cart. Now, at this point, it’s important to remain confident and aware. Take the cart from the kitchen to the snack bar, unplug the chocolate fountain, put it on the cart, and wheel it out. No one will notice you. You are a ghost. You are The Invisible Man. You are helping pull off the greatest heist in the history of this entire city.  
“Now, this is where Phase Two ends and Phase Three begins. By this point, Whiskers and Scaredy Cat will have scouted the escape route. We’ve been over the hand signals already, so we shouldn’t need to go over them in detail again. Real quick, though. This means coast is clear. This one means wait just a little bit longer. This one right here, when I move my hands like this, that means that you have to hurry. And this right here, when I put my hands like this and I do this, that means abort mission.  
“But there’s no need to worry about that one right? Good.  
“Phase Three involves getting through the getaway route scot free. That’s simple. It’s a pretty short route, anyway. Once we get the cart to my car, we load it in and we’re off. No need to worry about the cart anymore. And that is the entirety of Operation Dessert Storm. Any questions?”  
“Um, uh, Gaiu—”  
“CODENAMES, SCAREDY CAT.”  
“Aah!! Uh, Big … Kahuna?”  
“Yes, what is it?”  
“Where are we … going after we have the chocolate fountain?”  
Big Kahuna smiled. “You leave that to me, Scaredy Cat.”

-

Owain twirled a drumstick around in his hand lethargically, not even bothering to pick it back up when it fell out of his hand and clattered to the ground. He leaned forward onto his bass drum and sighed. To his right was Brady, who was leaning back in a chair and trying not to fall asleep, though he was fighting a losing battle at the moment. Owain, feeling a sudden onrush of passion, stood up suddenly. His crash cymbal fell over and smashed to the ground loudly, jolting Brady awake.  
“We have to fix this!” he declared.  
“Fix what?” Brady replied lazily. “That cymbal you just knocked over?”  
“No! Well, yes. But we can’t just sit around here and do nothing!”  
“We don’t got much of a choice, man. After Inigo ditched us, we were already up shit creek. Now we got Gerome texting us saying that he needs some alone time.” Brady sighed. “Maybe we just ain’t cut out to be a band.”  
Owain gasped and nearly fell to the floor out of shock. “Don’t you ever bring that sort of language in here again! We will never give up! We were put on this earth to rock together and, by the power invested in me by the drum gods, that is what we are going to do!”  
“I don’t even know why I’m in this godforsaken band! A violin ain’t even a rock instrument!”  
“That’s what makes us different from all of the other bands out there! You’re the defining piece of SwordHand! No other band out there has a singer who dances while he sings and a violinist!”  
“Maybe there’s a reason for that,” Brady said under his breath. Owain didn’t hear him. Brady sighed. “Either way, you already knew they weren’t gonna let us play. I didn’t much see the point of your party-crashing plan.”  
“It would have been legendary. You and I both know that. We would have saved everyone from the shame of having to dance to the same things they hear on the radio every day. We would have liberated them from the shackles of popular music. We would have delivered them from—”  
“Calm. Down. Owain. I get it. I was going along with it too. But, man, what do we do now?”  
Owain picked up the drumstick he had dropped earlier and stuck it into the homemade sheath hanging from his belt loop. “We go to prom.”

-

Still sitting on the bleachers, the motley crew of Sully, Kjelle, Stahl, and Vaike were still no closer to finding out how they were going to spend the night than they were an hour prior. By this point, the bucket of chicken had turned into a bucket of bones and the sun had inched ever closer to the horizon. After a few minutes of awkward silence during which no one had given any thought to the matters at hand, Kjelle’s phone began to ring.  
“Just WHERE in the world ARE you!” came the instantly recognizable voice from the speaker on the phone.  
“Severa, hey. What’s up?”  
“Don’t what’s up me! Have you lost your mind? You seem to have forgotten that you had plans tonight!”  
Kjelle was at a loss. “Um, I guess I have. What was I supposed to do tonight?”  
“Gawd, you’re such a hopeless case! Three words, Kjelle: Girls. Night. Out. Did you FORGET prom was tonight? Me, Cynthia, and Lucina have been waiting for, and I want you to really get this through that meathead skull of yours, _over an hour_ for you to meet us for dinner! Poor Lucina is about to starve!”  
“I’m actually quite fine! I had a big lunch, you see,” came a faint voice through the speaker.  
“Don’t listen to her! She’s delirious with hunger! We all are! So get your stinking butt down here, or else! Gawd!” Click.  
Kjelle stared at her phone for a brief moment. When she turned to her friends, they were all staring at her in amazement. She looked back at the phone before looking back at them and saying, “Guys, I think I just figured out what we’re doing tonight.”

-

“Gregor. Man. I can’t—we can’t thank you enough for this,” Basilio said as he and Flavia piled into the large SUV.  
Gregor simply laughed boisterously and turned the ignition on. “Is no trouble at all! Do not be worrying about it.” He turned around to look at the pair of large and drunken adults in his backseat. “We are wearing seatbelts, yes?”  
Flavia and Basilio quickly complied. “Good!” Gregor exclaimed. “Now to the prom.”  
After a few minutes of driving in a complete but comfortable silence, Gregor spoke up again. “Now, to tell truth, Gregor is lying if he say he want nothing in return for this favor.”  
Flavia and Basilio looked at each other and then at Gregor. “What is it you want? You have to remember the two of us are gym teachers—we’re broke.”  
Gregor laughed again. “Gregor not want money! Though Gregor also never say no to money. No, what Gregor wants is some of that rum you were using for drinking contest.” A smile alighted on his face. “After the kiddies have went home, Gregor will drink both of you over the table.”

-

On one half of the room, posters of boy bands and other male celebrities who were universally regarded as “hot” left little room for anything else on the walls. The nightstand resembled the earth moments before the meteor hit, as plastic dinosaurs and even dragons were arranged in a sort of military formation around the lamp. Laundry was strewn across the floor—mostly gaudy shirts two sizes too big for the wearer that had been handpicked at the thrift shop.  
The other half was a stark contrast. Instead of boy bands and male celebrities, the posters on this side were of female role models. Ranging from a poster of soccer star Mia Hamm (the same poster an upperclassman named Sully had hanging on the ceiling above her bed) to another poster featuring various female heads of state throughout history (Elizabeth I, Catherine the Great, and so on), they called to mind someone far more mature than the tenant who lived in the other half of the room, though the two cousins were the same age.  
On one bed, the 8th grader named Nowi was sprawled out, wearing a glittery dragon shirt that nearly went down to her ankles. She blew a raspberry at the girl on the other bed who had skipped a grade: the 9th grader named Nah. In Nowi’s eyes, Nah was taking far too long to get ready for her first ever prom and, even more embarrassing, she didn’t even have a date!  
“Nowi, I’d appreciate it if instead of making fun of me, you actually helped out a bit. You know how complicated this outfit is.”  
Nowi rolled off the bed, snatched up a boot while she was on the floor, and sprang back up to her feet quickly. She took the boot in both of her hands and examined it—it was nearly as long as half of her entire body. “Nah, this is a really long boot.”  
“Yes. Yes, it is. That is why I need your help to put it on.”  
“Why do you wear such long boots though?”  
“It’s not like I wear them every day. They are for a special occasion, and of course the night of the promenade is a special occasion for any high school girl.” Nah paused. “Perhaps that’s why you can’t fully appreciate it, cousin.”  
Nowi blew another raspberry, spiked the boot to the ground, and leapt backwards onto her bed. “Fine! Good luck with your dumb boots, JERK!”  
Nah raised a hand to respond, but thought better of herself. There was a long and painful beat of awkward silence between the two of them. Finally, Nah spoke. “I’m sorry, Nowi. I’ve just been on edge ever since my date canceled at the last minute.”  
Nowi shot up like a bullet. “Date? I thought you never had a date!”  
Nah frowned. “I’m afraid I did have one. Unfortunately, he decided that a chess tournament was more important than I was.” She took a deep breath and then chuckled. “His loss, really. To be honest, he’s not that good with girls from what I can tell. He could have used the practice.”  
Nowi was wide-eyed. “Wow. How old was he?”  
Her cousin smiled. “A senior,” she whispered.  
The 8th grader screamed as the 9th grader laughed, any evidence of the awkwardness from just a few seconds ago completely evaporated. Nah continued. “You know, Nowi, I do still have his ticket if you want to come hang out with some high school kids. What do you say?”  
“That sounds, um, AMAZING!”  
“On one condition: you help me with these boots.”

-

“Psst … Ricken … come here …” came a soft voice from the doorway of the room Ricken was adjusting his bowtie in. He turned around hurriedly to try to find the source, but could find nothing and decided that it was his mind playing tricks on him. Or maybe it was that girl ready to kill him. Either way, he had no regrets.  
The voice came again and this time Ricken went to the doorway to investigate before being dragged into a bedroom all of a sudden. It was Tharja’s cousin, but Ricken didn’t know her name. She was barely as tall as he was and about fifty times more terrified, for some reason.  
“Um, this isn’t easy to say, but you need to get out … while you still can,” she said. “I’m Noire. I’m Tharja’s cousin. I know her better than anyone else … for better and for worse …”  
Ricken was having trouble hearing her because her voice was so soft, he politely asked her to speak up but had no idea what he was in store for.  
“FOOL! YOU DARE TO MAKE ME REPEAT MYSELF? FINE! I WARNED YOU BEFORE AND I WILL WARN YOU AGAIN! BEWARE THE ONE WHO IS TIED TO ME BY BLOOD! FLEE WHILE YOU HAVE THE CHANCE! BLOOD AND THUNDER!!!” The eruption was over as soon as it began. Noire was only able to follow up the shouting that had shaken the entire neighborhood with a meek “Eep.”  
As if on cue, Tharja waltzed into the room. “Oh, Noire!” she said while using everything she had learned in Drama I to make herself look as distressed as possible, “How could you!” She placed a hand on Ricken’s chest. “I know my prom date is an Adonis, but to have him stolen away by my only cousin!” She moved the hand on his chest to her cousin’s jaw and tilted her face upwards so she could look directly into her eyes. She spoke in such a low whisper that only Noire could hear her. “Obviously, you didn’t learn from the last time you crossed me.”  
Ricken had already backed out of the room but Tharja had no idea. Without looking away from Noire, she told him to get out so she could talk things over with her cousin. She kicked the door shut with her foot and immediately, Ricken turned to look for the nearest window he could leap out of.

-

“Gee, you sure were in there a while! Did you have to banish some feminine demons or something while you were in there? Nya ha!”  
“Nothing of the sort. You should, of course, know about the stereotype that surrounds girls which dictates that we take ‘forever’ to get ready. In this case, ‘forever’ merely operates as a hyperbole, but that goes without saying. Nonetheless, I was simply fulfilling that stereotype in order to help construct the prototypical prom night experience.”  
“Okay, so, I understood, like, none of that. I’m also so hungry I could bite my own leg off. Wanna go to Taco Bell?”  
“No need. My mother informed me that there will be a great amount of hors d’oeuvres available at the location that prom is being held at. There is no need to fill up on superfluous and over-expensive foods beforehand.”  
“What are Horde Urves?”  
“You’ll find out soon, I suppose. Now come. My cousin has agreed to drop us off there on the way to his chess tournament.”

-

“That is all. Fencing club is dismissed for the day. Good work, you two.”  
The two combatants removed their masks to reveal a steely young man on one side and a beautiful young woman on the other side. Both of them were drenched in sweat and they respectfully bowed to each other, though when they both rose and their eyes met, the man flinched.  
“Oh, come now,” the woman said. “Is it necessary for me to put the mask back on?”  
“Say’ri, do not tease him. Lon’qu has made great strides in both his swordplay as well as his ability to deal with women in the short time he has been in fencing club. Perhaps one day he will make a good match for me.”  
“Yen’fay!” Say’ri replied.  
Yen’fay merely laughed in response. “Of course, both of you are a long time from reaching that level. Now, I hate that I had to interrupt such a fierce match, but as you both know I am chaperoning at the prom this evening and must get going. We ran a bit late as is, I’m afraid.”  
Lon’qu nodded and Say’ri looked sheepishly to the side. “I hate that you had to take Miss Tiki’s place,” she said.  
“It is nothing. She falls asleep easy enough as is—it will do her good to get a stress-free night of rest. I know you were looking forward to seeing her tonight.”  
Say’ri blushed. Lon’qu scoffed. “Can I go now?” he said.  
Yen’fay simply nodded in his general direction. Lon’qu put away his equipment and walked off in silence.

-

POUND! POUND! POUND!  
“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!!!”  
“Owain, you dolt! You scared his cousin!”  
“It’s his fault for ditching us!”  
“You could’ve at least knocked on it instead of almost beating it down!”  
“I’m a drummer! I know no output other than maximum!”  
Suddenly, the door opened.  
“H-hello? Can I help you?” her eyes were closed and her knees were shaking.  
“Olivia, there ain’t no need to worry. It’s just me and Owain.”  
She opened her eyes. “Oh. Phew. That was terrifying. Owain, did your mother never teach you any manners?”  
Owain walked past her and into the house, ignoring her question. Immediately after doing so, he wheeled around to look at Olivia. He had barely any time to register how stunning she looked. Her arms and legs were covered in black lace and her dress—if it could be called that—hugged her body tightly, belying her shy personality. Indeed, as soon as she felt Owain’s eyes on her, her face turned a fierce red and she moved her hands to cover herself.  
“Stop staring!”  
“Jeez, Owain, I guess your mama never taught you any manners after all,” Brady said, walking in nonchalantly and closing the door behind him. “Don’t pay him no mind, Olivia.”  
“Oh, I knew it! I was so worried that I might have gone overboard!” She began to cry but Brady placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Owain was still discombobulated.  
“No worries. You look great. Any man’d kill to take you to prom. Speakin’ of which, who’s the lucky man?”  
As if on cue, Inigo stormed out of his bedroom. “Olivia, what in blazes is going on in here?” He was immaculately dressed—at least by his standards—in a black tuxedo with a bright green bowtie. Brady turned to look at him and was speechless. Owain finally moved to turn and look at him and he too was speechless. The only person able to speak was Olivia.  
“Don’t get the wrong idea!” she shouted a little bit too loud. Her voice instantly shrunk to where it was barely audible. “No one he asked said yes and I was too shy to ask anyone so we’re just, you know…”  
“ _Damn_ , Inigo!” Brady said, moving fluidly from Olivia’s side to Inigo’s and slapping a hand on his back. “Sucks that your best catch is your cousin!”  
“Brady!” Olivia chided as if she were his mother.  
“Oh, now who’s the rude one?” Owain shot, placing his arms at his hips.  
“Look, everyone just SHUT UP!” Inigo yelled, ripping Brady’s hand off of his back. “Neither of you should even BE here. Why the hell are you two in my house?”  
Owain grabbed both of Inigo’s shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes. There was a moment of not-entirely-awkward silence as Olivia wondered what these two unpredictable kids were going to do next and Brady made himself at home on the couch. Inigo’s eyes tried to dart away from Owain’s but, without fail, they always found each other. With equal amounts confidence, resolve, and determination, Owain spoke.  
“We’re getting the band back together.”

-

“We are here. Looks like we are not first ones.”  
As the trio of Gregor, Basilio, and Flavia pulled up to the venue that was hosting Ylisse High’s prom, they saw a group of four people standing in front of the door that was, at that time, closed to them. This was a bit confusing seeing as prom wasn’t even supposed to start for at least fifteen more minutes.  
“Who the hell comes to prom early?” Basilio asked, unbuckling his seatbelt as Gregor parked.  
“No clue. Hopefully they haven’t been waiting too long,” Flavia responded, doing the same. Once Gregor has parked, they all got out and approached the group of four.  
“It’s about TIME!” one of them said, instantly recognizable to Basilio as Maribelle, who got out of doing any work in his gym class thanks to a note from her parents. Instinctively his palm met his face.  
“Forgive Gregor for asking,” Gregor whisperd to Flavia as they approached, “But what time were we supposed to be here?”  
Embarrassed, Flavia’s response was uncharacteristically weak. “Seven o’clock.”  
“Now, now, Maribelle,” Frederick chided. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason as to why these fine chaperones are late.”  
“Car broke down,” Basilio responded without missing a beat.  
“What? Car is fine,” Gregor replied.  
“Well, duh. The car is fine now,” Basilio said, elbowing Gregor gently but forcefully. Gregor understood.  
“Oh! Yes. Was awful. Gregor fear for poor car’s life.”  
“Well, I’m glad the three of you made it here in one piece.” Frederick paused and examined the closed doors. “Is everything still on track to start on time?”  
“Well, uh, we might need a bit of help,” Flavia said. She scratched the back of her neck apprehensively. Asking Frederick for help was like signing a contract with the devil, but it was already too late.  
Frederick’s eyes gleamed at theprospect of making himself useful. “Of course,” he said calmly. “I would be delighted to lend my assistance.”  
Basilio clapped him on the back. “Sounds like a plan! No time to waste.” He quickly turned and burst through the double doors of the venue, with Flavia and Gregor quickly following suit. Frederick made himself scarce as well.  
Maribelle, meanwhile, turned to her companions Lissa and Donnel. Her jaw was agape and her look was incredulous. It was a few seconds before she figured out what it was she wanted to say and how loud she wanted to say it.  
“It was UNLOCKED the WHOLE time!?”

-

The three of them had elected to take Sumia’s car, because after all she had won the first rock-paper-scissors game that felt like it had been played an eternity ago. Chrom sat awkwardly in the child seat in the middle, wearing the tuxedo he had forgotten he rented and a pair of flowers on his lapel. Sumia hummed contentedly to herself as Cordelia ran a brush through Chrom’s hair. He, like anyone else, had no idea how he had gotten into this situation.  
“in. Point. Five. Miles. Turn left.”  
The GPS droned, Sumia hummed, Cordelia brushed, and Chrom just wondered if this was all some sort of bizarre dream.  
No, it wasn’t.  
Prom night was about to truly begin. 


	2. Part Two: The Event

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herein we discover what transpires during those magical hours of 8 PM and 12 AM, when prom is actually taking place.

It was a few minutes before eight o’clock. Prom had yet to officially start, but cars and limos were already pulling in, not to mention the three kids (plus one chaperone) that had been there for quite some time. Everything was ready to go—with Frederick’s help, setup had been completed in record time. Reluctantly, Basilio and Flavia had agreed to let him help chaperone for the rest of the night. With Gregor and Yen’fay chaperoning as well, they were all a force to be reckoned with.

                Frederick’s first order of business was to deal with what he viewed as an impermissible dress code violation: the pot on Donnel’s head. It was bad enough that he had come to prom like that in the first place but even worse, he was Lissa’s date. His hints during the dinner had fallen on deaf ears; now was the time to just be upfront and tell him to take the godforsaken thing off. As he made his way to where he was ogling the snack table, however, Lissa intercepted him.

                “Don’t even think about it, mister,” she asserted, wagging a finger at him.

                Frederick was taken aback, but he quickly regained his composure. “Lissa, not only is it rude to point, but it’s downright unseemly to insist that your prom date be allowed to wear a pot on his head.” He folded his arms and stared down at her.

                She stared back, also folding her arms. “There’s no rule that says he can’t wear it, right? Then why should he have to take it off? He’s _my_ date anyway.”

                “Regardless, what will the other attendees think?”

                “He wears it to school! Everyone knows it and no one makes fun of him for it. It’s part of who he is and I don’t want anything less than that from my prom date.”

                Frederick flinched. Could he have gone too far? Was it within his rights to police a student’s identity like this? Was this admittedly small idiosyncrasy worthy of such a big fuss? Was—

                Frederick’s reverie was interrupted when Maribelle unceremoniously butted into the conversation. “Frederick, let him wear the stupid old thing. Country boys enjoy the simple pleasures of life, be it carving something out of wood or wearing a kitchen pot on one’s head. Don’t take that away from him.” Satisfied that she had solidified her reputation as the better person in all of this, she waltzed away, leaving Frederick and Lissa stunned, at least until Donnel broke in.

                “Gee, y’all ain’t gonna believe what all they got over there! They’s a big ol’ fountain, but instead a’ water, it’s chocolate! I been dippin’ some carrots I brought in it and it’s finger-lickin’ good!” He beamed, revealing a few chocolate stains on his pearly whites. Maribelle’s words rang in Frederick’s ears, and in response to Donnel’s elation, he wordlessly pulled him in for a hug. Reluctantly, Donnel returned the favor. “Aw, don’t thank me! I didn’t do nothin’.”

                Lissa put her hand to her mouth and giggled. “Jeez, Frederick, hands to yourself!” She pulled Donnel away from Frederick and clasped one of his hands in both of hers. “This is my man!”

                As if on cue, music began to reverberate throughout the rooms. The grandfather clock in the lobby chimed eight times. Prom had begun.

                The first people to arrive were Chrom, Sumia, and Cordelia. Each one of the girls seemed like they were surgically attached to one of Chrom’s shoulders, and he could barely control his own walk while being pulled by both of them. Gregor, whose ticket-taking shift had just started, let out a hearty laugh as the trio walked up.

                “Baseball player is ladies’ man, eh? Which one is date?”

                “Both of us!” Cordelia said with a smile. Sumia grinned in response. Chrom just shrugged.

                Gregor closed his eyes and nodded sagely. “You have more dates in one night than Gregor have in entire life.” He took the three tickets out of Cordelia’s hand and put them on the table behind him. “Go ahead inside.” Cordelia and Sumia let Chrom in, but he was stopped short by Gregor, who motioned for the two young women to continue inside. There was something he had to speak to Chrom about.

                “Little man, how is it two beautiful young women both agree to be taking you to prom? With no hint of the jealousy?”

                Chrom shrugged again.

                Gregor chuckled. “You will have be sharing your secrets with Gregor one day. Just make sure not to be a breaker of hearts tonight, eh?”

                Chrom nodded. Gregor slapped him on the back and he ran inside like a frightened puppy. “Hard to believe boy who always is getting stuck climbing trees can be such ladies’ man,” he said to himself as he peered outside, looking to see if any other students were on their way in.

                Inside, Cordelia and Sumia had already met up with Lissa. The three of them exchanged the high-pitched high school girl shriek that translated to “Oh my gosh I am so glad to see you!” before all coming in for a group hug. After that, there was a bit of chat before Lissa’s jaw hit the floor.

                “Wait. Let me get this straight. You’re BOTH here with my brother?”

                They nodded.

                “Wow. I don’t know how he does it.”

                “He’s just so dreamy,” Sumia said, staring off into the distance even though Chrom was a few degrees of rotation away from her stare.

                “Spare me the gory details!” Lissa responded, playfully pushing Sumia, though that was probably a bad idea since Sumia’s clumsiness was likely multiplied by every inch of the high heels she was wearing. She toppled over backwards and landed squarely on her butt with a rousing thud. Cordelia covered her mouth with her hand and Lissa gasped in shock.

                There were a few moments of silence before Sumia finally broke it with a meek “Ow.”

                A few more moments of silence passed as Sumia remained prone on the floor, looking as if she were about to cry. Though her dream scenario involved Chrom sweeping her off her butt in one fell swoop, she instead got his sister extending a hand and apologizing profusely.

                “No worries,” Sumia said as she grabbed the outstretched hand and raised herself up. “I’m glad I got it out of my system early.” Unfortunately for both her and Lissa, her momentum upon becoming upright again was too strong and she fell forward, clattering right into Lissa and bringing the both of them down with yet another rousing thud. Cordelia’s hand remained glued to her mouth.

                Lissa, as always, remained in good humor about it all. “Well, I guess we’re even now!” She laughed and, as if infected, Sumia and Cordelia began to laugh as well. Meanwhile, Chrom walked through a doorway, noticed one of his dates on top of his little sister, and immediately redirected himself to the snack table.

                Already camped out at the snack table was Donnel, who had already sampled the chocolate fountain using one of each of the vegetables he had brought with him.

                Noticing he had company now, Donnel wheeled around. “Howdy! You’re Lissa’s brother, ain’tcha?” Chrom nodded. “I’m Donnel, her date!” He shot out his right hand for a handshake and grinned widely. His lips and mouth were caked with chocolate. Chrom shook it apprehensively. Donnel turned back to the table, grabbed a piece of cantaloupe, and chucked it into his mouth. Still chewing, he continued, “I tell you what, this here is some of the best durn food I’ve ever eaten! An’ it’s free!” He picked up a pretzel and offered it to Chrom. “Dip it in that there fountain o’ chocolate! It’s amazin’!”

                Chrom complied, just now realizing that he had not eaten dinner aside from some Fritos and a leftover slice of pizza from last night. To his amazement, the pedestrian pretzel was made delicious by the fountain o’ chocolate. “Wow. This _is_ delicious.”

                As the two continued to converse and sample different foods, several more guests trickled in and music started to play. Virion, Cherche, and Minerva arrived, with Gregor’s attempts to bar Minerva from entering failing in the face of the ticket bought lawfully in her name. As they walked through the doors, Gregor turned over his shoulder and met a triumphant smile from Cherche. “Oy, every time that girl smiles like that is like blade to chest.” He had encountered the same smile many times in the history class she had with him, having been called out as historically inaccurate on more than one occasion. “Always with the smile.”

                Arriving next were Miriel and Henry, who were being dropped off by Miriel’s cousin Laurent on his way to a “chess tournament” (Dungeons and Dragons all-nighter). As Henry exited the car and ran towards the entrance, not thinking to open the door for his date, Laurent turned to his cousin in the passenger seat—feeling his glare, she slapped the book she had been reading shut.

                “Miriel, I’ll have you know your date is positively incorrigible. Several times during this brief journey, I felt the urge to let the car swerve into oncoming traffic. His voice is grating, his jokes are morbid and nonsensical, and he left several Pixy Stix wrappers in my floorboard. Before I depart, I must ask you: Why?”

                Miriel shrugged and adjusted her glasses.

                Laurent sighed. “Your response is markedly unsatisfactory, but you have your reasons. You always do. Very well. Have fun tonight.”

                Miriel opened the car door and stepped out. Before she closed it, she turned around to address her cousin. “Laurent, good luck with your campaign tonight.” He gasped and, before he could respond, she winked and closed the door.

                Shortly following Miriel’s entrance were Tharja and Ricken. Their status could be summed up by the stern words given to them by Gregor before he let them in: “Young lady, you should probably be cooling it with the touching.” As they entered, Ricken turned around and mouthed “help me” but Gregor only smiled and waved. Oh, kids and their shenanigans.

                Inside, the awkwardness that came with the building being half empty began to dissipate as more bodies filled it up. The chatter fought a war with the music but both ended up just being really loud. The DJ, Yen’fay, was sticking to a playlist he had searched for using one of the school’s computers and, so far, the kids seemed like they were having fun. No one had noticed his entrance several dozen minutes behind schedule.

                Donnel and Chrom were still camped out at the snack table, dipping just about everything they could find into the fountain o’ chocolate and sipping punch. Lissa sauntered up to the table, plucked a pretzel out of her brother’s hand, and popped it into her mouth. “Wow! That _is_ delicious! I can see why you guys have been spending so much time over here.”

                Someone who did not know Lissa would assume she was being bitingly bitter and sarcastic, but those who knew her knew what was coming next: she pushed her brother and date out of the way and commandeered part of the snack table. This lasted for a minute or so, but then the song changed and Lissa gasped. As if it were a reflex action, she grabbed her date’s hand and drug him to the dance floor, leaving her brother in the dust.

                Suddenly on the dance floor, Donnel found himself unsure of what to do. “Come on, Donny! Dance!”

                Watching the beautiful young woman in front of him busting loose made Donnel positive that if he so much as moved a muscle his legs would tie themselves into knots no one would ever be able to untie. Instead of responding to Lissa’s plea he stood there like a statue as various other bodies moved around him.

                Lissa made a face. “You’ve never really danced before, have you?” Donnel was able to muster a weak shake of his head. “Here. Give me your hands.”

                She took Donnel’s hands in hers and moved them from side to side rhythmically. The rest of his body remained frozen. She implored him to at least start moving his feet around and, slowly but surely, they began to inch around the floor. She released his hands and, fueled partially by momentum but also by increasing confidence, they continued to move, though not to the beat of the music at all.

                Lissa cheered her date on and he continued to move, eventually contorting his body in a way that at least slightly resembled dancing. “Close enough!” she declared, trying to follow his bizarre lead with some moves of her own.

                “Aw heck, Lissa! A fella could get used to this! I got myself some dancin’ shoes on!”

                Meanwhile, at the entrance, Nah had gotten through without a hitch but Nowi was being held up. She had scribbled over Laurent’s name on the ticket and written her name in large, block letters. She held the piece of paper proudly in front of her face and saw nothing wrong with it. Gregor had rules to follow, however: “It is paining to say this but I have to be turning you down if the ticket has not your name.”

                In response to this, Nowi dropped both her arms and frowned, beginning to tear up. Needing a way to diffuse the situation quickly, Gregor continued: “But Gregor will make exception in this case! Go on inside, little girl.” Faster than the speed of light, Nowi’s frown turned upside down and she rushed inside with her cousin.

                Gregor checked his watch. Just a few minutes until nine o’clock. Basilio was due to take over the ticket booth any minute now. Unfortunately, Basilio was having some troubles of his own, having caught Henry pouring several Pixy Stix into the punch bowl.

                “You little twerp! Are you out of your mind?”

                Henry remained unfazed by the large and angry man shouting at him. “Calm down, Mr. Basilio! It could always be worse.” Henry snickered. “These could be drugs!”

                Basilio buried his face in his hands. Even though he was barely sober, he was still too sober for this. The entire punch bowl had been ruined and he had no idea how to make more on such short notice. He had no idea where it even came from—

                “Ah! I see we are having some issues with the punch,” declared Frederick, strolling out of the back room and wearing a chef’s hat while carrying an ostensibly fresh bowl of punch. “I’ll dispose of this tainted batch posthaste. I’ll leave the punishment to you, Mr. Basilio.” Just like that, the “tainted” punch and Frederick were both gone. Had he…had he made all this food by _himself_?

                Without missing a beat, Henry motioned to pour even more Pixy Stix into the new bowl of punch but Basilio whipped his hand out and grabbed Henry’s wrist tightly. “Yowch! Haha!”

                “Look kid. I won’t kick you out. But if you pull this garbage one more time you’ll be suspended until the cows come home.”

                Henry laughed again. “But what if the cows never come home?”

                Basilio released Henry’s wrist and pointed towards the dance floor. Again, without missing a beat, Henry lifted up the Pixy Stix but instead of pouring them into the punch bowl, he opened his mouth wide and let several grams of sugar fall right into his mouth. His work done for the moment, he tossed the wrappers into the trash can dutifully and skipped off, allowing Basilio to finally exhale.

                “How bold.”

                Henry turned to his left to see Tharja leaning against the wall, her index finger positioned delicately in the middle of her lower lip.

                “Oh hey, Tharja! Do we not hate each other anymore?” he responded cheerfully.

                Tharja held up a cup full of the tainted punch. “All I needed was a taste of some Dark Juice. I don’t even remember why we hated each other.”

                “Aw shucks, Tharja, that wasn’t even real Dark Juice! For it to be Dark Juice, it has to be grape Kool-Aid and Pixy Stix and I’m not even sure that punch was any type of Kool-Aid!”

                “Cram it, Henry,” Tharja responded, grabbing Henry’s collar with one hand and pouring the rest of the “Dark” “Juice” into her mouth with the other. She threw the empty cup down and brought her face close to Henry’s. “Let’s ditch these losers and go hang out in the woods.”

                Henry, yet again, laughed. “Sounds good to me!” Both of them walked out the back door, and no one noticed save for Ricken who, slack-jawed, had watched the whole thing unfold. He walked up to where Tharja and Henry had been talking and picked up the cup Tharja had thrown to the ground. He hadn’t heard their conversation, but he had watched from hiding as his date downed three cups of the stuff while Basilio was berating Henry.

                He found fellow Science Club member Miriel reading a book in the corner and had deduced that Henry was her date, having seen them walk in together before Tharja dragged him up.

                “Hello, Ricken,” she said, acknowledging his presence while not lifting her eyes from her book.

                “Hi, Miriel. Do…uh. You came here with Henry, right?”

                “That is correct.”

                “Do you know that he, uh, just left prom with my date, Tharja?”

                “This is the first I have heard of this development but it fits in with my hypothesis about how the events of the night would transpire.”

                Ricken scratched the back of his neck. “You _knew_ your date was going to ditch you?”

                Miriel closed her eyes and snapped her book shut. “I did not _know_. It was a _hypothesis_.”

                “Right, right. Well, uh, since neither of us have a prom date now, do you just want to, uh, go with each other for the rest of the night?”

                She opened her eyes. “Hmm. This is an unforeseen turn of events. I did not entertain the possibility of changing dates mid-promenade. From what I have read, it is a social taboo.”

                Distraught, Ricken turned around. “Oh, okay. Never mind,” he said as he walked away.

                “Wait,” Miriel ordered, “I did not decline your proposal.” She smiled now. “I welcome this new development and I am fascinated to see how it changes the rest of our night.” Ricken turned back around and she extended her hand. “Show me a good time, as they say.”

Unbeknownst to any of them, Basilio had carefully watched the entire thing unfold and had declared all of them lost causes. Checking his watch, he noted it was time for his shift swap with Gregor but he realized he had seen very little of Flavia that night. Searching around the venue he found her with the back door propped open and a pair of binoculars covering her eyes.

                “Have you been here this whole time?” he asked.

                “Here,” she replied, ignoring his question and handing him the binoculars. She pointed at a car parked on the furthest end of the parking lot.

                Reluctantly, Basilio obliged and inspected the car. Once he saw who was behind the wheel, his entire body jolted. “What in the world is _he_ doing here!?” He was so shocked he forgot entirely about how strange it was for his fellow gym teacher to bring a pair of binoculars to prom.

                “For what it’s worth, he still tools around the school even though he dropped out at the beginning of this year.” She sighed. “Straight A’s his whole career. I think he did it just to do it.”

                Basilio folded his arms. “I’d wager it also has something to do with stealing from the school bake sale three years in a row.”

                Flavia chuckled. “Yes. That’s true. But look at who’s with him.”

                He inspected the car through the eyes of the binoculars again. “It’s that vagrant kid who lives in the woods behind the school and her cousin.” Basilio exhaled sharply. “He has a note from his parents saying he’s ‘too fragile to participate in daily gym class activities.’ Hogwash.”

                “They’re planning something. No reason for any of them to be here if they weren’t. I’m keeping my eye on them.”

                “You do that. I gotta go swap shifts with Gregor.”

                Meanwhile, the group of four was supposedly blissfully ignorant of being observed. Kellam, who had been standing outside the car in plain sight the whole time, scratched the back of his neck.

                “Don’t you think it’s a bit counterproductive to just sit in the parking lot until whenever ‘the right time’ is?”

                Gaius—Big Kahuna—took offense to this. “If we’re not here as long as we can possibly be, how can we know when the right time is?”

                Panne—Whiskers—had been reclining in the passenger seat of Gaius’s hatchback with her eyes closed. “They know we’re here,” she stated simply.

                “What!?” Gaius exclaimed, the Dum-Dum he had been sucking on flying out of his mouth and landing squarely on his dashboard.

                “It seems as if Mr. Basilio and Ms. Flavia are two of the chaperones for tonight. Flavia has been watching us for several dozen minutes. She has indicated her intent to continue watching us.”

                “God damn, Whiskers. What I’d do to have hearing like yours.”

                “Oh, I knew this plan would fail!” Yarne—Scaredy Cat—lamented from the backseat. Accepting his fate rather quickly, he then declared it was time to go home.

                “There’s no such thing as failure, Scaredy Cat! That’s why we have to wait for the right time,” Big Kahuna explained, reaching into his glovebox for another Dum-Dum. “Whiskers, how many of us did they notice?”

                Whiskers sighed. “They did not notice our Invisible Man.”

                Big Kahuna smiled and tapped the side of his head for some reason. “We got the right person. We just need the right time.”

                Aside from Operation Dessert Storm, there was one other teenager sitting in the parking lot of prom without any intention of actually going to prom. Gerome, leaning against his moped Minerva and looking particularly melancholy, scrolled through his phone and the forum thread he was reading. All of these people were wrong. There was no way that Dick Grayson was the best Robin.

                The posts he was looking at disappeared as Owain’s damned face appeared on the screen. Gerome held the phone up to his ear. “What.”

                “Gerome! I take it you got my … text message?”

                “Yes. Your plan is asinine. I refuse to rejoin SwordHand.”

                Gerome moved the phone away from his ear as Owain screamed in a mixture of disappointment and frustration.

                “Let me finish, you overreacting moron. I am waiting for you in the parking lot. I have my bass guitar with me. You have ten minutes to get here, and then I will leave and never talk to you again.”

                Gerome again moved the phone away from his ear, this time to avoid a scream of joy. Once he had regained his composure, he told Gerome to give them fifteen minutes. “For there are hurdles in any hero’s journey!”

                There was a bit of a struggle on the other line. Brady talked now. “Inigo’s cousin needs to get gas.”

                “You have thirteen minutes.” Gerome put the phone in one of the many pockets available to him on his jacket/pants combo. He was a bit harsh on them, true, but they didn’t understand him. No one did. Sometimes you have to be alone, because heroes have to be alone, and—

                More interestingly, Basilio had successfully swapped with Gregor, who went to meander about the students he was tasked with watching. Basilio’s first hurdle was to deal with a quite large and somewhat unruly group that had just arrived, mostly in the back of Sully’s pickup truck.

                Severa was first, stomping up to the entrance and shoving a ticket into Basilio’s chest. Her face was flushed red. “If you so much as _consider_ letting those muscleheads in, I’ll go on a hunger strike!” She motioned for Lucina and Cynthia to follow her in and they quietly obliged. Basilio was shocked that Severa’s command could quiet the normally boisterous Cynthia. Something pretty big had just went down. Basilio waited for the three girls to fully enter before calling the others over.

                “Sully, what in the hell happened?”

                Vaike answered for her. “I thought it would be hilarious!”

                Sully slapped her palm over Vaike’s mouth. “That’s the first and last time you ever thought anything, you lummox.”

                Stahl yawned and nonchalantly explained the situation. “There was an unfortunate accident at the restaurant the three girls were eating at. She’ll cool off in an hour or two.”

                Basilio turned to Vaike and eyed him suspiciously. He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Dare I ask what happened?”

                Vaike’s attempted answer was muffled by Sully’s hand, which forced itself on his mouth further. This time, she answered for him. “It’s just better if you don’t know.”

                That was all he needed to hear. “That’s all I needed to hear.” Without thinking, he waved them through before realizing once they had gotten in that none of the four of them had given him a ticket. He wheeled around to chase them down and discovered that only Kjelle actually had a ticket—Sully, Stahl, and Vaike did not. Though they tried to use their athletic achievements as trade bait to woo Basilio, he wouldn’t have any of it, mainly because he had a reputation to uphold. He also didn’t really see the point.

                “Look, do you really _want_ to get in there? You don’t get to pick the music you listen to and by now most of the free food will be gone. I know the three of you; you can probably make your own fun tonight just fine.”

                Sully looked at Stahl and then at Vaike, who was wearing a shit-eating grin like the tuxedo he wasn’t wearing. It was then that Sully realized she was in a tank top and gym shorts, exactly like her two partners in crime. She looked back at Basilio. “You make a damn good point, old man.” She punched him affably and lightly on the shoulder. “See you at practice Monday.” Then, the three of them were back off.

                Inside, Kjelle played disaster control with Severa. “I think your wish got granted, Sev. He didn’t let anyone else in.”

                In response, Severa flipped her hair triumphantly, though she did not dare to smile. “Of course he didn’t! He knows what would have happened had he disobeyed my command. He knows I mean what I say.”

                Kjelle made sure Severa’s gaze was averted before rolling her eyes in response to that comment. “Whatever. Let’s just have fun tonight.”

                As if in response to Kjelle’s request, the music shifted from a Top 40 hit to a token slow dance song. In response to that, almost everyone at the prom became deeply nervous and aware of their hands. The dance floor cleared out in an instant, though DJ Yen’fay did not waver in his musical choice.

                Prom was roughly midway over by this point, which was apparently the key time to introduce the first obligatory slow dance song. No one was taking the bait, though. The fact that no one was taking it made everyone that much more wary of taking it. After a few seconds of pained teenagers standing around an empty dance floor, Lissa shoved her date out to teach him about the other kind of dancing.

                “Gosh, Donny, you sure froze up right quick! You were moving so fluidly earlier,” she said in a low voice—rare for her, but necessary for tact in this situation.

                Donnel felt the eyes of almost every student at the prom fall directly on him. He had to do something. He took each of his hands and placed them on each of Lissa’s shoulders. She was a bit taken aback by this but was fine with it. In her eyes, he still had plenty of time to work his confidence up to at least torso-level. She placed her hands on his shoulders as well and swayed back and forth with him. Frederick, who had watched the whole thing, shed a single tear in honor of Donnel’s surprising chivalry.

                The leak in the dam of student willingness to go out and slow dance soon turned into a full-on break. Chrom got dragged out by his two dates, who tied his arms up with theirs in a feeble but noble attempt to make a three-person slow dance. Fittingly, Sumia and Cordelia’s bodies ended up back-to-back, as if they wanted to imagine that it was only them enjoying this dance with their noble prince. For the record, that was exactly the plan.

                Ricken coaxed Miriel out there only on the condition that while they dance she be allowed to continue reading from their book. It was better than nothing, and it was quite the sight to see him, almost an entire head shorter than her, swaying back and forth with her as she read from her tome. Eventually, several other Ylisse High students worked up the courage to go out there, but their reverie did not last the entire length of the song, as a loud commotion just outside the doors interrupted their swaying.

                “No ticket, no dice!”

                “We’re here to _save prom_!”

                “Prom doesn’t need saving, you nitwit! Turn around and take all that crap out of my sight!”

                “Come on, Coach B! This’d be the most excitin’ thing to happen all night! Let us play!”

                “The answer is no. I won’t say it again. Don’t think I couldn’t take the four of you on.”

                “We have been chosen by destiny to quench the insatiable thirst of the masses for excitement and live music! Are you one to doubt destiny, Mr. Basilio?”

                “You know my damn feelings about destiny. There’s no argument to be had here. Get out!”

                “Basilio.” This voice was much calmer than the other three. “I have with me a paper, signed by the principal, noting that the ‘musical talents of the band SwordHand’ are contracted to perform at least one song on this night in this location. The reason you were not informed of this is because SwordHand has been broken up for over a month. Like you, I do not believe in destiny. But tonight, let these idiots have their moment.”

                There was a long silence broken only by the sudden change from slow dance back to Top 40 hit. By then, Flavia and Gregor had come to the door to see what the argument was about. All eyes were on them and the band that apparently had every right to play tonight.

                This diversion, though unexpected, proved to be a massive windfall for the team behind Operation Dessert Storm. Gaius executed a complex string of hand signals, none of which meant what he wanted them to mean. After a few seconds of exasperation, he successfully indicated to his Invisible Man that it was time to move out. Reluctantly, he obliged.

                The Invisible Man procured the necessary cart and moved as quickly as possible to the back door, where Flavia had been watching. Fortunately, she had propped it open, and he got through without any problems whatsoever. His uncanny ability to divert attention away from him seemed to work on the cart, too; no one at all noticed its hideously squeaky wheels, even after he entered the building.

                By this point, the four members of SwordHand had made their way to the stage. Olivia shamefully melted into the crowd, desperately wanting not to be associated with this ragtag group of young men. Owain procured a microphone and nearly burst everyone’s eardrums with a particularly harsh bit of feedback. He tapped it twice and it was gone.

                “Whew! Sorry about that!” He paused for dramatic effect. “I bet you’re all wondering what on earth is going on here tonight.” No one responded. “Well, I’ll tell you. We—SwordHand—have been summoned by the Prom Gods to save you from the shame of listening to the same music you hear on the radio every day. No, SwordHand is a liberation from that drudgery. It is a call to arms. It is—“

                Brady snatched the mic from Owain’s grasp. “What our drummer is tryna say is that we’re here to provide a bit of live music for your enjoyment.” Brady paused and motioned for Owain to set up his frickin’ drums already. “We’ll be all set up in just a few minutes. Thanks for havin’ us.”

                The four chaperones stood and observed this travesty, either with their arms folded or their hands on their hips. All of them seemed to forget about the covert operation taking place just outside of their line of sight. Owain warming up on his drums helped to drown out the squeakiness of the cart and the noises Kellam was making in attempting to heave the chocolate fountain on top of it. After some trials and tribulations, he managed to get it unplugged and on top of the cart. With the added weight, it was even squeakier now. That didn’t matter one bit as Gerome and Brady were now warming up their instruments, and not a soul thought to turn to where the chocolate fountain once was.

                Slowly, The Invisible Man wheeled his way back to Big Kahuna’s Hatchback. He was awash with excitement whereas his other two comrades were simply amazed that the plan worked at all. They loaded the fountain up very carefully and packed in a bit tighter than before.

                “So.” The Invisible Man spoke. “What now?”

                “You leave that,” Big Kahuna replied, “To me.”

                Big Kahuna turned the ignition on and, for added effect, pushed down his accelerator so hard that his wheels spun, rubber burned, and smoke rose from his tires before speeding away to parts unknown. Operation Dessert Storm had been, against all odds, a success.

                A few minutes afterwards, all Hell broke loose as people finally realized that the chocolate fountain had been pilfered. Flavia slammed her fist down on the empty section of the table where it used to be. “I checked out back. Gaius and his crew are gone. They must have made off with it while Tweedle Dee and his Tweedle Dums were setting up.” For the record, they were still setting up.

                Basilio grunted. “You think they were in cahoots?”

                “As much as I want to believe that, no. I’m hesitant to give any of them that much credit. I think they were just waiting for me to get distracted and I can’t believe I let them have that chance.”

                Gregor chimed in. “Surely loss of fountain of chocolate is not that bad, no?”

                “You’d think so, but the lack of something accentuates how important that thing is in the first place. Wait until those kids notice the fountain is gone. They might riot. And that’s before we hear whatever SwordHand has to offer.”

                Flavia’s predictions turned out to be correct. As soon as one student noticed the lack of a chocolate fountain (that student being Donnel), its conspicuous absence spread like wildfire to the point where every student at prom save for SwordHand was clamoring near the snack table. Eventually, even the four band members went to see what the heck was going on.

                Above the din of voices came a shockingly strong and assertive voice. “Silence!” All eyes turned to the source: Miriel. “The absence of the chocolate fountain is certainly an unfortunate turn of events.” Here she adjusted her glasses. “But any tragedy is obviously no more than an opportunity to succeed in the face of adverse circumstance.” Here she smiled, turning to the chaperones. “Allow me some time to myself in the kitchen. I assure you that no one will be disappointed with my work.”

                They couldn’t really say no to that. Miriel entered the back room alone and slowly everyone began to lose interest in staring at either a closed door or an empty spot on the table. SwordHand began to set up again and people slowly began to fill the dance floor, though no one was dancing. Prom had about eighty minutes to run by this point, and the past half-hour at least had passed with no music whatsoever. The stern glares from Flavia and Basilio towards the group yet again warming up on stage seemed to indicate that they needed to move it or lose it.

                Suddenly, attention was yet again diverted from them. A sudden snapping noise preceded Virion falling to his knees with a very new and very red mark on his face. Cherche, meanwhile, was replacing her glove very delicately on her hand. Calmly, she turned to Minerva, still obediently perched on her shoulder. “See, Minerva? I told him no funny business.”

                Before anyone could react to that, another sudden noise seized everyone’s attention. This one was more piercing than the last—it was a whistle. None other than Frederick himself had blown it. After gaining everyone’s attention (and ire), he checked his watch and gestured to a small table he had set up, with stacks of paper next to each of them. One was labeled “King” and the other was labeled “Queen.”

                “Attention, prom-goers,” he spoke as if he were trying to quell a riot with a megaphone. “The time of reckoning is at hand. Voting for Prom King and Queen is now open.” Before anyone could react to _that_ , the kitchen door burst open. Miriel had made her dramatic re-entrance with an uncharacteristic flourish. She allowed herself that indulgence as the adrenaline coursing through her veins due to her innovation had yet to subside.

                She pushed her glasses up and reached just out of sight, pulling a brand-new chocolate fountain out from behind her. Gasps echoed from the crowd as she moved it to the table, heaved it over, plugged it in, and turned it on. Miraculously, chocolate began to erupt and drip down from the top to the bottom. For many of the students, this was akin to turning water to wine. Miriel had turned a bunch of unused kitchen equipment and ingredients into an entirely new chocolate fountain, likely violating the terms of the school even being able to rent out this venue in the first place.

                In one motion, the students stampeded over to the fountain, eager to try it. They quickly found that somehow, some way, this fountain was even better than the one that had been stolen. Though the adrenaline was fading away, it was being replaced bit by bit with pride. Miriel smiled, though no one was looking at her. Well, one person was.

                “That was _amazing_!” Ricken said, running up to her with chocolate lining the entirety of his mouth. “How in the world did you do it?”

                Miriel continued to smile. “A magician never reveals her secrets. I believe that saying applies to the situation at hand.”

                “You know, you’re really something, Miriel.”

                The band members of SwordHand had yet again interrupted their warmups, this time to partake in the New Chocolate Fountain. Gerome held back at first, but once Owain shoved a chocolate-covered strawberry into his mouth, even he could no longer resist.

                No one at prom seemed to care that no music was playing anymore. The Chocolate Fountain Renaissance had unexpectedly ushered in a new era. No one was anywhere near the dance floor—the new social center was the snack table. The chaperones were even having a good time over there. Occasionally a group of students would wander away to fill out ballots for Prom King and Queen before returning to enjoy some more chocolate-covered anything.

                About twenty minutes passed. With just over forty-five minutes left in the prom, Frederick deemed voting closed for Prom King and Queen and began to count the ballots. As he receded into a corner, SwordHand picked up their instruments and yet again began warming up. A few students were bold enough to move to the dance floor and move to the cacophonous tunes of a violin, drumset, and bass guitar warming up simultaneously. Others, like Chrom, retreated back to the chocolate fountain. A few students even sat down against the wall, having enjoyed too much chocolate. Victims of this included Nowi, Donnel, and Cynthia, among a few others.

                Inigo tried to kick the mic up from the floor to his hands but he bungled it magnificently, sending it flying across the room and just whizzing by Lucina’s head. She turned and glared at him sternly, effectively communicating that he needs to watch what he’s doing or else his head will roll. In response, he tugged at his collar and jumped down from the stage to meekly fetch the mic. Once he had retrieved it, he tapped it twice and cleared his throat.

                “Are you all ready to r—“

                Frederick blew that godforsaken whistle again. “Attention, prom-goers. The ballots have been counted. Your Prom King and Queen have been chosen.” He turned towards Owain. “Owain, would you be so kind as to give me a drumroll?” Eagerly, he obliged.

                As Owain drumrolled, a bevy of emotions swirled around the room. Sumia and Cordelia did not seem to process that both of them would be unable to share the crown with Chrom. Chrom, meanwhile, was thinking about chocolate. Severa thought she was a shoo-in. Only one person voted for her, though. Lissa had stars in her eyes and she imagined her and Donnel with the crown, but alas, they were the only ones to vote for each other. One vote was cast for the iguana perched on Cherche’s shoulder. No votes were cast for Virion or any of the members of SwordHand.

                “Your Prom King and Queen is…Chrom and Miriel!”

                That sentence was fully expected up until the very last word. Sumia and Cordelia were devastated. Miriel was pleasantly surprised. Chrom was still hungry. Frederick was thrilled to not only se Chrom win, but to see the student body reward such an entrepreneur as Miriel. He politely requested SwordHand clear the stage so that the crowning ceremony could commence. It should be noted that none of the four actual chaperones were taking any of this as seriously as Frederick was.

                Frederick was taking it pretty seriously. The process of him crowning Chrom resembled a knighting ceremony. All that was missing was a sword for Frederick to tap on Chrom’s shoulder, and it wouldn’t have been too surprising had he pulled one out. Instead of a sword, he placed a plastic crown gingerly on Chrom’s head; it was a size or two too small. He repeated the same process for Miriel, but her crown fit perfectly. Despite her best efforts not to, she blushed.

                They cleared the stage and by now there were only thirty minutes or so left in prom. SwordHand took the stage again and started to set up despite the huge proportion of students now leaving. Somewhat absentmindedly, Inigo asked into the microphone, “Where’s everyone going?” Only Severa dared to answer.

                “Where do you think, you nimrod? This night is only getting started and now that everyone knows who the king and queen are there’s no reason to stick around this joint anymore. See you losers on Monday.” Just like that, she was gone, and so was almost everyone else. A few stragglers left behind to sample some more of the chocolate fountain, but with DJ Yen’fay deposed, and the only possibility of music being the talents of SwordHand, there wasn’t much reason for anyone else to stick around.

                For all intenses and purposes, prom was over. Gerome scoffed, and Owain fell forwards on his drumset. Brady sat down in a chair and sighed. Inigo fought back tears. They had fought so hard and they had come so far, Gerome thought. But in the end, none of it even mattered.

                This wasn’t the end of the night, however. Though prom was over, prom night was only beginning.


	3. Part Three: The Afterparty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prom night is over, but for some, the fun is just beginning. A new 24-hour restaurant DID just open up down the street from the school...

Among the people quickly filing out of the venue in order to either sleep the night off or pursue more fun were Severa, Lucina, and Cynthia. The former two were helping the latter one walk to the car—she had definitely had too much chocolate and was definitely sick. The trio was walking towards Lucina’s PT Cruiser when Kjelle showed up out of nowhere, draping her arm around Severa.  
Before Severa could respond, Kjelle got her point in. “Sev, I need a ride.”  
Severa rolled her eyes. “First off, don’t _ever_ call me that. Second, what makes you think I would do you any sort of favor after you were party to one of the greatest embarrassments of my life earlier tonight?”  
Knowing “Sev” as well as she did, Kjelle was fully prepared for this response. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a small, sealed flask. In a singsong voice that was uncharacteristic of her, she told Severa that she could “make it worth your while.”  
Severa’s eyes now nearly bulged out of her head and, as a side-effect, she nearly dropped the side of Cynthia she was helping walk. By this point, however, they were at Lucina’s car and the two of them dropped Cynthia in the backseat. “Sleep it off, sweet cheeks,” Kjelle teased. Cynthia could only groan in response.  
Lucina only now noticed the small flask Kjelle was waving around. “Kjelle…what is that?”  
Severa tried to snatch it from Kjelle but failed. Frustrated, she managed to simultaneously scream and whisper, “How on earth did you get that? Do you even know what it is?”  
“Sully hooked me up. It’s whiskey.”  
“Have you ever had whiskey?”  
“…No.” For the record, neither had Severa.  
“Have you tasted it?”  
“…No.”  
Severa’s palm slapped her forehead. She had one final question to ask. “Do you _ever_ think?”  
Dodging the question, Kjelle replied, “Look, just let me hang with you guys for the next however long and I’ll share whatever’s in here. It’s prom night. We have to do something reckless.”  
Lucina now butted in. “I fail to see the benefits of doing something reckless simply for the sake of doing something reckless. And, I’m driving. So count me out of whatever that mystery liquid is.”  
Severa playfully tousled Lucina’s hair. “There’s my goody-two-shoes!” In response, Lucina wordlessly opened the driver side door of the car, got in, and revved it up. “You can come with us, Kjelle. But you have to sit with Cynthia in the back.”  
Kjelle complied and both of them got in the car. Once they were in the safety of their car and driving away, Kjelle unscrewed the top of the flask and smelled whatever was in there. Her eyes watered. “Gods, whatever’s in here is strong.”  
“Stronger than you?” Severa teased.  
“Let’s not jump to any conclusions until we drink it.” Kjelle paused. “Do you wanna try it first?”  
Severa laughed. “Oh, are you scared now?”  
Kjelle blushed. “No, you loon. I was just being nice. Watch me.” Closing her eyes and steeling herself, Kjelle took a small sip and swallowed it before she could hesitate. Her eyes watered more than before and she nearly choked. Lucina glanced backwards with worry. Severa just stared. Cynthia was fast asleep.  
“How is it?” Severa asked.  
“My throat is on fire,” Kjelle replied, her voice suddenly scratchy. “I think that means it’s legit.”  
As the group of four girls drove away into who knows what kind of wacky adventure, the group of four boys still on stage at prom were practically melting into the floor with disappointment. By now there were only a couple of students left, shamelessly pocketing things from the snack bar. The four chaperones (plus Frederick) were all present as well.  
Gregor took a break from helping to clean up, picked up a chair, and sat it in front of the stage. No member of SwordHand had said a word to each other or anyone else since prom had emptied out. Even Gerome had gotten his hopes up. Even Gerome was disappointed. They did not notice Gregor sitting himself in front of them.  
“Oy! Band!” Gregor exclaimed at the four boys on stage. He did not remember what they were called. They turned to him, surprised that anyone was acknowledging them at all. “Gregor wants to hear music. Music helps Gregor clean. How is about sharing some of your music?”  
SwordHand perked up. “Really?” Owain asked.  
Gregor nodded. “Really. I am betting it will be out of the chain.”  
Having been too disappointed to start breaking their instruments down, the band was still at the ready to start playing whenever. Without realizing they may need a warmup, Owain tapped his drumsticks together once. Inigo picked up the microphone off the ground. Owain tapped his drumsticks together yet again. Gerome assumed the coolest possible bass-playing position. Owain tapped his drumsticks a third time. Brady took a seat and readied his violin.  
With the fourth tap of Owain’s drumstick, SwordHand’s concert finally began. Neither Gregor nor anyone else still in the venue knew what was in store for them, and it was a musical experience unlike anything else in recorded history.  
Elsewhere, more importantly, Chrom and Lissa’s house was about to be stirred from its respite. Their parents were out of town for the weekend, visiting Emmeryn at college. Cordelia’s car was still parked on the street in front of it when Sumia’s car pulled up with the trio in tow. Chrom and Cordelia stepped out, and Sumia waved, blew a kiss, and drove off. Cordelia, however, had planned all of this from the beginning. If Sumia drove then she would have to drive off, leaving her alone with Chrom. Then she could finally make her move.  
She bounced up to Chrom and thanked him for a wonderful evening. He was still wearing the crown on his head. In her ideal world, he would respond by saying that she was the only queen for him. Instead he just nodded. Her hints were far too subtle, and she was far too nervous to make the first move. It didn’t matter what he did as long as it was something! He couldn’t possibly just turn around and go inside his house and leave her out to dry, could he?  
Like a reflex, she extended her arms, offering him a hug. He looked down at her for a brief moment, as if to process the situation in front of him. Realizing he had to do something, he extended his own hand … and shook hers. “See you on Monday!” he said, turning and jogging up to his front door. What a long day. Time for some sleep.  
Cordelia, bewildered, stayed frozen in place for about two minutes. Robotically, she walked to her car, opened the door, got inside her car, turned on the ignition, and let her head fall forwards on the top of her steering wheel. She was too confused to even cry. A handshake? A handshake! Who gives a girl a handshake after prom night! Chrom, apparently. She sighed, resolving to parlay tonight into some hope of a future relationship. She sped off into the night.  
Shortly after Cordelia sped away, a rickety pickup truck pulled up. It lurched to a halt in front of the house. Lissa, the passenger, turned to the driver, Donnel. “Donny, are you sure you can’t stay out any later?”  
“’Fraid so, Lissa. I’m fixin’ to be up at dawn to lend a hand on the farm. It’s right past my bedtime as is!”  
Lissa pouted, though silently she admired Donnel’s work ethic. “I understand. Thanks for a wonderful evening, Donny.” She leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Let’s do it again sometime!” Before he could process what happened, she was out of the truck and strolling up to the front door. Unsure of what to do with his muscles, he suddenly sped off similar to Cordelia, cradling his own face with one of his hands.  
Out of the trail of smoke Donnel left in his wake came a limousine. It honked its horn once, startling Lissa and forcing her to turn around. Who in the world…  
The window rolled down, revealing Maribelle. Oh, right.  
“Lissa, you cannot possibly tell me that you’re turning in so soon!” Maribelle was alone in the back of the limousine.  
“Well, my date has to wake up early tomorrow morning…”  
“That’s him! This is you, Lissa. How could you say no to a girls’ night out? Especially when you still look so gorgeous!”  
Lissa wrinkled her face in thought. “You’re right! I’m still wide awake, Maribelle. Let’s have some fun!” Lissa scampered down her front lawn and hopped in the limo, only then realizing she had never been in a limo before. “Wow! It’s so big!”  
Maribelle smiled. “Of course it is. Nothing less than the best for us, right?” She snapped her fingers quite loudly and the vehicle began to move. It, too, sped off into the night. Chrom was already fast asleep.  
By this time, the short, impromptu SwordHand concert had ended. Two and a half songs had been played, and all four members happily went outside to meet Olivia, who had already left without them and returned almost in tears once she realized her error. The boys’ departure left the chaperones as the only people still in the venue. It was a little past midnight now.  
“Why in the hell did you encourage them like that, Gregor?” Basilio asked, a large bag of trash hoisted over his shoulder.  
“Gregor hated to see such sadness on such young faces. There is regret, yes, but not much.”  
“I thought it was pretty good. Certainly unique,” said Flavia.  
“Regardless of result, it’s our duty to encourage creativity,” said Frederick.  
Only now did the four of them notice that Yen’fay had vanished into the night, his DJ equipment neatly filed away. They shrugged. At least he pulled his weight.  
“Anyways, Gregor thinks it is being about time for that drinking contest. Night has been long and hard. Gregor needs to kick the back and relax.”  
Flavia and Basilio both nodded in agreement, then turned to Frederick. They knew very well that they were signing their souls away yet again, but the promise of rum was too much to turn down. “Frederick, could you DD for us?”  
Frederick uncharacteristically paused before answering. “Of course. I must admit I find there are better ways to pass time than a drinking contest, but I admire your adherence to law and common sense.” Gregor walked up and dropped his keys in Frederick’s hand.  
“The rum is in a knapsack in the backseat,” Flavia said. “Right here. Right now.”  
Some folding chairs and a folding table got pulled out of where Frederick had already put them away, much to his chagrin. However, he was still riding a high from the honor of being asked to be a designated driver, so he didn’t really care. Frederick worked in mysterious ways.  
As that drinking contest started, another type of drinking event continued. By now, Lucina was parked in front of Cynthia’s house. They had stayed in the car for a while as Severa was coaxed into taking a swig out of the mystery flask. Kjelle had nearly lost her voice, and Cynthia had yet to wake up. Lucina looked on, trying to decide who to be more worried about.  
Finally, Severa snapped. “Fine!” she exclaimed, snatching the flask from Kjelle’s hands. “It can’t possibly be that bad.” Upon taking a sip and swallowing, she shivered in horror, shoving the flask back into Kjelle’s hands. “Oh Gods, it _is_ that bad,” she exclaimed now, her voice a pained shriek.  
The pained shriek woke up Cynthia, who sniffed a couple of times upon coming to her senses. She shot up, nearly hitting her head on the roof of Lucina’s car. “Great galloping pegasi! What on earth is that smell?” Before anyone could answer her, she figured it out for herself, eyeing the flask in Kjelle’s hands. “Are you guys … drinking?”  
No one really knew whether or not Cynthia would condone or condemn this action. It was also useless to lie about it, seeing as she had not only recognized the smell somehow but also caught them red-handed. Plus, everyone was sort of in awe at how quickly she had recovered from her chocolate sickness and returned to her usual self.  
Lucina answered first. “They are. I’m not, of course. We’re actually in front of your house right now.” She paused, then added, “Are you feeling better, Cynthia?”  
“I feel like a million bucks! That nap did wonders for me. I’m ready to do it all over again!”  
Kjelle and Severa glanced at each other out of the corners of your eyes. Kjelle slowly extended the flask towards Cynthia. “Do … you want to try some of this stuff?”  
Everyone expected her to say no, considering she had just made a miraculous recovery from being sick. “Sure!” There was barely enough time for the other three people to register surprise before she snatched the flask and took a pull longer than either of the pulls Kjelle or Severa took. Once she had finished, she burped loudly, seemingly unaffected by the wicked burn of the whiskey. “Oopsie!”  
Three dropped jaws met Cynthia’s radiant smile. “What? Me and Sumia have wine all the time!” It was a slight exaggeration—they were only allowed to have wine on occasions such as holidays and birthdays and even then they were not allowed to have much. But Cynthia at least had an idea of what to expect, and she also had a stomachful of chocolate.  
Lucina warily closed her jaw. Choosing to ignore the fact that one of her closest friends was supposedly secretly a wine fiend, she instead opted to figure out what in the world they were doing next. “So, do you want to go somewhere else or stay here?”  
“Waffle House!” she responded in no time flat.  
“…Waffle House?” Lucina asked.  
“Yeah! The one that opened up just down the street from the school. I could really go for some food that’s not covered in chocolate.” She waved around the flask a little bit. “Plus, me and the girls can kill the rest of this by the time we get there!”  
“Is it really a good idea for us to go out in public after having alcohol? I don’t care about your history with wine, Cynthia, we’re still underage,” Kjelle interjected.  
“Pssh!” Cynthia said. “We’ll be fine! There’s barely enough stuff in here to get one person drunk, unless you’re, like, a _suuuuper_ lightweight.”  
Neither Kjelle nor Severa thought of themselves as a “ _suuuuper_ lightweight.” They agreed to share the rest of the swill while Lucina drove to the mythical Waffle House. None of them had been to it yet, but it was a fairly big deal when it first opened up. The closest food joint to a high school is always a top destination for students, plus it was open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.  
Cynthia passed the flask back to Kjelle, who steeled herself for the second sip—her throat had yet to recover from the first. Lucina put the car in drive and they were off to the Waffle House.  
Around the same time, Chrom woke up with a grumbling stomach. He had fallen asleep on the couch, so he hadn’t been sleeping too soundly. He had been out maybe half an hour, and before he went back to full sleep, he wanted to get some food inside him. Opening the fridge and pantry, however, proved quite literally fruitless. As his parents were out of town, no grocery shopping had been done. Unless Chrom wanted to eat straight-up cream of wheat, he was out of luck.  
He did have a bit of luck, though: he had passed out completely dressed (the crown hadn’t even fallen off his head), so he was perfectly capable of going out to grab some grub on his own. He lived near the school so, by proxy, he lived near the Waffle House that had just opened up down the street from it. It was perfectly within biking distance, which was good, seeing as Chrom did not have his driver’s license yet. He opened the garage, took his mount, and coasted down his driveway, slapping the button that closed the garage door on his way down.  
By this point the drinking contest involving adults of legal drinking age had nearly played out. Basilio sat on one side of the table, breathing heavily and struggling to retain his composure. Flavia was leaning back in her chair with her eyes closed; no one knew if she was asleep, lost in thought, or even dead. Frederick’s face was, as it often was, wrought with worry.  
At his own side of the table, Gregor wore a wide smile and folded arms. “Is already over? Gregor was just getting started!”  
It was a few seconds before either Basilio or Flavia could muster a response. It came from Basilio, as Flavia might not even have heard Gregor’s comment. “Gregor…how?” was all he could manage to say.  
Gregor laughed uproariously. “Let Gregor tell you story. Back in old country, in time of Gregor’s youth, Gregor get lost climbing mountain. Very cold. Young Gregor think this is end. All Gregor have to drink is water and strongest vodka in land. Maybe Gregor should have packed better; that is lesson for another day. Anyway, for three days, Gregor is surviving only on those things. Here is thing: alcohol keep body warm. Make you very sick, yes, but keep you very warm. To make short out of long story, what we drink now is nothing compared to what Gregor is used to.”  
Though Frederick was on the edge of his seat during Gregor’s story, Flavia was still unmoving and Basilio could barely sit up straight himself. Again, two words were all he could muster: “I…see.”  
Gregor slapped his hand down on the table, jolting Flavia awake. “Gregor hungers now! We must eat!”  
“It’s late, so not much is going to be open,” said Frederick. “I’ll be happy to take you all wherever you wish, though.”  
“I just wanna go home and sleep,” said Flavia, rubbing her temples.  
“Some food will honestly do my stomach good,” said Basilio. “That Waffle House that opened up near the school is probably still open. Let’s eat there.”  
Gregor slid the depleted bottle of rum back into the knapsack and the four of them walked to Gregor’s car, Frederick prepared to drive. They piled in—Frederick and Gregor in the front two seats and Flavia and Basilio in the back. Flavia leaned against the window and fell asleep almost instantly. Basilio would have made fun of her, but he wasn’t quite feeling up to it. Gregor asked Frederick if he needed directions, but Frederick of course knew exactly where the school was as well as everything within a ten-mile radius.  
Knowing that the pair in the backseat were pretty out of it, Gregor took this chance to bond with Frederick.  
“Frederick. We never get chance to talk.” Gregor had taught Frederick several years prior, and now they existed in that bizarre reality that occurs when a former student and their old teacher are both adults.  
Frederick glanced towards Gregor, having not expected him (or anyone) to talk for the duration of their journey. Gregor had not asked a question and what he said didn’t really merit any sort of response. “Yes. That’s correct.”  
“How are you? Doing good, yes?”  
“I’m doing well, thank you. I hope the same is true for you.”  
“Yes, Gregor doing good as well.”  
Their small talk was interrupted by a shout from Basilio in the back. “Will you two lovebirds can it! My head is pounding!”  
Gregor frowned. “Gregor sorry to hear that.” He opened up his glovebox and pulled out a couple of aspirin tablets. “Here. Should help with pounding head.”  
Basilio was in awe. What couldn’t this guy do? “Thanks. I don’t have anything to take it with though, and I’m not going anywhere near that rum again.”  
“Should be unopened bottle of water back there somewhere.”  
There was. Basilio picked it up. “How long has this been back here?”  
“Who can know? Water does not expire. Should be fit to drink. Enjoy!”  
Basilio unscrewed the lid and popped the tablets into his mouth, following them with a rush of lukewarm water. Already he could feel the effects, plus it was doing him good to get some liquid other than rum in him. “That hit the spot. I feel better already.” He turned to Flavia and snickered. “Can’t say the same for her, though.”  
“I heard that, you oaf,” came the snappy response from Flavia. “I’m just resting my eyes.”  
Before they could get into it, Frederick pulled into the Waffle House parking lot. “They look very busy,” he said, noting the bevy of cars in the parking lot and the noise coming from inside the restaurant.  
“Fine by me. The more the merrier,” Basilio said, stepping out of the car and steadying himself on the roof.  
It took some coercing but Flavia finally got up and out of the car as well. The four of them walked in and were shocked to find a full-blown party going on.  
People were eating, yes, but what was going on around it was chaos. People—mostly students who had been at prom—were sitting on tables, dancing to music being played on an old-school boombox, talking, laughing, and generally having a good time. The centerpiece of it all was a chocolate fountain. Sitting next to the chocolate fountain and dipping a pancake in it was Gaius.  
Had the boombox been a record player, it would have scratched when Basilio and Gaius locked eyes. However, the music kept playing. Basilio slowly raised a finger and pointed at Gaius, then the fountain, and then back at Gaius.  
Gaius knew that to have the advantage in this confrontation he needed to make the first move. “Hey, Coach. Welcome to the Chocolate House!” he said, leaning back and spreading out his arms. “Pull up a chair, place an order, dip it in the Fountain of Magic. We’re all friends here.”  
Truthfully, Basilio thought he was hallucinating this whole thing. He looked around and saw many students he had seen just a few hours prior. At a table to the left of him were Severa, Kjelle, Cynthia, and Lucina. The former three were uncharacteristically silent and non-boisterous. To his right he saw Chrom, eating a chocolate-covered waffle alone. Chrom’s sister Lissa and her confidante Maribelle had, without noticing her brother’s presence at all, seated themselves at a booth close to the fountain and were enjoying what it had to offer very much.  
Sully walked up and slapped her coach on the back. “Fancy seeing you here, Coach.” He turned and looked at her, absolutely bewildered.  
“Sully, will you please tell me just what the hell is going on here?”  
“Hah!” Sully placed a hand on her hip. “You should have seen it. Stahl, Vaike, and I were minding our own business eating another round of dinner when Gaius and his crew roll in with a frickin’ chocolate fountain! No clue where he got it. But he, that transient girl, and her cousin carried it in and set it up on the counter without even asking the staff. They were cool with it, though. Vaike brought in his boombox and this place has been a party ever since.”  
It took some time for Basilio to realize that Sully never entered prom and therefore did not know about the chocolate fountain which was stolen, nor that it had become a moot point when Miriel saved the day with her makeshift chocolate fountain. Basilio wanted to be furious with Gaius—he had literally committed a crime, regardless of how bizarre that crime may have been. Since he was a dropout, there was no school-related punishment Basilio could inflict. The same went for Panne, though for different reasons. And Yarne would probably come up with some doctor’s note.  
Plus, the influence of alcohol made all of those things very tough and painful to think about. Flavia felt much the same way. The more action they took, the more obvious it would be that they were intoxicated, and the last thing any teacher wants to do is let their students see them under any influence whatsoever. Though the pair turned to leave, Gregor ushered them in.  
“Come! We walk in on second prom at House of Waffles! Is joyous occasion!”  
Most of the patrons didn’t seem to notice or care about the group of three teachers and a Frederick that had just walked in and sat down. A bouncy waitress jaunted over to take their orders.  
“Hey, y’all!” she said.  
“Morgan!” Gregor exclaimed. “Gregor did not know you are working here!”  
Morgan beamed in response. “Yep! So does my other half. He works the kitchen.” She gestured towards another young man that greatly resembled her. He, too, beamed.  
She had no relation to her “other half” whatsoever. Though the two had remarkably similar mannerisms and physical characteristics, they were not twins. Inexplicably, they were born on the same day of the same year and given the same name: Morgan. By a further inexplicable coincidence they grew up in the same area and ended up going to the same school and even getting jobs at the same Waffle House. Perhaps most inexplicably of all, they were best friends.  
They also suffered from a bad memory. “Now, you I remember, Mr. Gregor. Are the rest of you guys teachers, too?”  
Flavia and Basilio did not answer. Frederick did. “Flavia and Basilio here are gym teachers. I’m a close friend of Chrom’s. Surely you know Chrom?”  
She had met him several times. “Hm, nope! Doesn’t ring a bell! As for the other two, I haven’t taken gym yet. I keep forgetting to sign up for it! Anyway, let me take your orders. We just installed a chocolate fountain which I’m sure is a first for the Waffle House franchise. Can’t believe I talked my boss into that one.” She took out a notepad and pen, knowing not to trust her memory alone. “What can I get you?”  
“Coffee,” Flavia said.  
“Coffee,” Basilio said.  
“And how do y’all want that?”  
“Black,” they said in unison.  
“ _Oh_ -kay. And for you, Franklin?”  
Frederick winced. “It’s Frederick. And I’ll just have a pair of eggs, sunny side up, please.”  
“Got it. And you, Mr. Gregor?”  
“Gregor will have biggest steak you have to offer. Medium rare.”  
“Alright, I’ll be back with water and coffee in a bit!” She trotted over to Lucina’s table. “Anyone here decide yet?” She flipped to a blank page of her notepad.  
“Waffles!” Cynthia exclaimed. “Waffles!”  
Kjelle covered her ears. “I think I’ll just be fine with a water.”  
“Same here,” Severa said.  
“Morgan, what do you recommend?”  
“Well, with the new chocolate fountain I’d recommend getting something you could dip in it. Waffles are good for that but so are pancakes. French toast might be good in it too! I don’t know, there are just so many options!”  
“Hmm. I’m feeling ambitious enough tonight. Might as well go for that French toast. With water to drink.”  
“Alright, got you down! I’ll have it all out in a jiffy.” She jaunted behind the counter to her other half. “New orders for you, dude!” she said, handing him the two slips of paper with her two tables’ orders.  
“Thanks. Tonight’s been so wacky. First that chocolate fountain and now it seems like the whole school is here to eat. I can barely believe I’m keeping up with everything,” he replied, though he had yet to start on the five-page paper he had due Monday morning.  
By this point in the night it was well past one in the morning. The students seemed to be more raucous at the Waffle House than they were at prom. The music was certainly louder, though there were long stretches of silence when Vaike struggled to find a song he wanted to play next. And there were even adults with nothing to do with the school that had been befuddled bystanders to the whole thing.  
Time from then on out seemed to flow much more smoothly than before. Perhaps it was the spirits swirling around in the two gym teachers and three underage ladies who were now sitting just one booth away from each other. Perhaps it was the fact that someone else had commandeered Vaike’s boombox and had actually started to play music consistently now. Free from the socially cramped and constructed environment of a prom venue, the students could truly be themselves. None of them really cared that there were teachers in the building, save for the trio of underage ladies.  
Kjelle, Severa, and Cynthia talked in hushed and panicked whispers as Lucina picked at her French toast. Her earlier ambition was outmatched only by her lack of an appetite caused by the atmosphere of panic that surrounded her. In truth, these young women had nothing to worry about, at least due to the teachers. Basilio and Flavia were too concerned with their own drunkenness to give a damn about anyone else, and it’s not a guarantee that they would have cared had they been sober. As for Gregor, he likely would have joked that his first drink came at an earlier age than any of them, and he wouldn’t have been lying.  
If there was anything for them to fear, it was Frederick. The fact that he was essentially an uncle to Lucina, by proxy of Chrom, was one thing. But his sense of righteousness was comically extreme. The man had never jaywalked in his life. Even worse, it was rumored that he had been the one to snitch on Gaius’s failed bake sale theft so many months ago—without even being a student at the school anymore! Had he caught the faintest whiff of alcohol on the tongues of any of the young women at the table adjacent to him, he would have taken them all to their mothers by the tips of their ears.  
Luckily, he was sitting on the opposite side of the booth from Lucina’s table. Save for a passing greeting, he would not interact with any of them at all tonight. As vigilant a sentinel as he thought of himself, he was actually well past his bedtime of nine o’clock. Every last ounce of his focus was being dedicated to staying awake and alert. After all, he was the designated driver. It was his responsibility to remain alert so that he could get his charges home safely. He didn’t really consider the fact that by the time they left, all three of them would have sobered up.  
“Lucy!” Cynthia suddenly used her inside voice, which was everyone else’s outside voice. “You didn’t dip your French toast in the chocolate fountain!”  
Startled, Lucina dropped her fork. “Oh!” She paused for a bit before picking it up. “Yes, I forgot entirely about that. Sorry. My mind’s been elsewhere.”  
Cynthia cocked her head. “The reason for that should be obvious,” Lucina continued. In response to that, Cynthia flamboyantly raised her palm and waved it downwards, dismissing all of Lucina’s concern with one fell swoop.  
“I don’t know about the other two but I’m fine now!” Cynthia beamed. “Go ahead, smell my—”  
Before Cynthia could finish, Lucina clapped her own palm over Cynthia’s mouth. “I don’t care if it smells minty fresh. Saying stuff like that out loud is dangerous,” she whispered, removing her palm once Cynthia nodded her understanding.  
All the while, Kjelle and Severa stared into their cups of water. The headache was coming on for the both of them, and they doubted that a Waffle House would have some aspirin to spare. They knew Frederick would, but they didn’t dare ask him. Instead they occasionally lifted the glass to their lips to sip some ice cold and surprisingly refreshing water while trying to maintain some balance of consciousness and alertness.  
The tenseness at that table belied the mood elsewhere in the Waffle House. While Chrom might have been the prom king (he was still wearing his crown and eating alone in the corner of the restaurant), Gaius was the Waffle House King, which he figured suited him better. The role came with no crown but countless students came up to congratulate him on the success of Operation Dessert Storm. Most of them didn’t know him previously, but his dropout despite straight A’s had already cemented legendary status and the chocolate fountain theft had given him high school immortality.  
Across the counter, Panne regarded him with a look that only she could make. “If your head gets any bigger there will be no more room for us in here,” she told him, smiling.  
Gaius took a toothpick, dipped it in the fountain, and stuck the covered end in his mouth. “The bigger the head, the bigger the crown, Whiskers.”  
Panne laughed. “Your ‘Operation’ was a success, despite everything. I am sure we can stop going by those ridiculous codenames now.”  
Gaius smirked. “Codenames become nicknames, Whiskers. They’re called terms of endearment. Consider it a badge of honor for aiding in the only instance in recorded history of grand theft chocolaty.” Those last three words sounded better in Gaius’s head.  
“Does this mean you’re going to call me Scaredy Cat for the rest of my life?” Yarne had butted in.  
Gaius now leaned back on the counter and closed his eyes. “Until you prove me wrong, Scaredy Cat.”  
Kellam asked if he was doomed to be the Invisible Man for the rest of his life, but no one heard him. He sighed.  
For the next couple of hours, the only people who left were the adults whose peaceful meal at Waffle House had been crashed by a rambunctious bunch of kids. Plenty of new people came in, mostly students who had heard about the legendary Waffle House Prom Featuring The Chocolate Fountain via word of mouth. One new visitor, however, had no idea what was going on.  
“Laurent!” Lucina exclaimed as he passed through the door, his facial expression stunned by his new surroundings. “What are you doing here?”  
It was well past three in the morning by this point. Kjelle and Severa had sobered up and ordered food, neither of them remembering the things they had whispered to each other earlier when under the influence. The Morgans’ heads were still spinning but they were getting the hang of the wildest work night of their lives and were even remembering peoples’ names. The full-on party atmosphere of earlier had died down, but only a little bit. Each time Gaius sensed a lull in the mood, he dramatically made a show of dipping something unorthodox in the chocolate fountain and eating it. His most recent choice was a hashbrown, and it was surprisingly delicious.  
“I…” Laurent trailed off as his mind at once both struggled to decide whether or not to tell his good friend Lucina about the D&D campaign he had been DMing and struggled to piece together these confusing surroundings. “Er. Some colleagues of mine are, um, pulling a good old-fashioned all-nighter.” Not false. “I was sent to procure some food while we take a break.” Also not false. He smiled, satisfied ad his choice of words.  
Cynthia was eavesdropping. “Wow, Laurent! An all-nighter on prom night. I heard you stood up that ninth grader!”  
A klaxon went off in Laurent’s head. Damage control time. “The cancellation of our night out was mutual. My ticket was used by her cousin. As they say, no harm, no foul.”  
“Suuuuuuure,” Cynthia jeered, in good humor. Anything she said had to be taken with a grain of salt.  
“Well, in any case, it’s good to see you,” said Lucina after shooting a stink-eye at her too-boisterous friend. “I suppose you’re unable to stay long.”  
“Unfortunately, this is true.” Laurent pushed up his glasses. “My colleagues are very particular, so it would behoove me to be in and out of here forthwith. My sincerest apologies.”  
After awkwardly patting Lucina on the shoulder, he walked off to the counter to place his take-out order. Lucina sat back down with her friends.  
“Does my Lucina have a crush?” Cynthia said, turning Lucina’s face beet red.  
“N-no! I don’t have time for romance!”  
Severa interjected now. “That’s the most Lucina thing you’ve ever said.”  
Kjelle’s turn. “I don’t blame her. All of the boys at this school are just that: boys.”  
Severa again. “Pssh. Like you would ever date a boy.”  
Kjelle closed her eyes, suddenly deep in thought. “You’re right. Boys are pointless.” She opened her eyes and placed a hand on Severa’s shoulder. “Who needs them when I have you?”  
Now Severa’s face turned beet red. Kjelle had asked that question with a perfectly straight face. Cynthia had forgotten entirely about teasing Lucina now, and so had Lucina. Had Kjelle just confessed to Severa at Waffle House?  
Kjelle snickered and then burst into laughter. “Oh man. You should have seen how red your face was.” Severa smacked her hand off, absolutely livid. “You’re alright, Sev. Better than any boy I know.”  
Severa turned to face the window, refusing to dignify Kjelle with eye contact. “W-whatever! It’s not like you’d be worth my time anyway!”  
The alcohol-fueled tension from earlier had completely dissipated. The entire table, save for Severa, had erupted into laughter. Kjelle’s laughter masked her anger at her lack of bravery. What she had said was true. Bursting into laughter was chickening out. That was the best chance she had yet, and she had wasted it. Of course, neither she nor Severa remembered their whispered confessions from earlier.  
Time continued to flow steadily, like chocolate dripping down a fountain. Laurent’s food came and he went. Frederick requested his party depart after he almost fell asleep in his own coffee. They went as well. Though Gaius was running out of new chocolate-covered inventions, his sugar rush seemed to be contagious and the Waffle House kept bumping even as less and less people were inside. Maribelle and Lissa left around two in the morning, as Maribelle’s desire for beauty sleep eventually trumped her desire to mingle with the commoners. Lissa stayed at her place. Chrom vanished without a trace around three in the morning, leaving a twenty-dollar bill for a ten-dollar receipt. Morgan never forgot his name after that.  
Panne and Yarne, too, vanished without a trace. She did not need a ride as she was perfectly content to walk back to her haunt behind the school. He did not need a ride as he was too scared to be anywhere without his cousin, even if it meant spending a night outside with her until his mom could pick him up the next day. The pack of four girls went home around four in the morning, all crashing at Cynthia’s house after one of the more wilder nights any of the would ever experience.  
The sun was rising now. It was near six in the morning. Both of the Morgans’ shifts had ended. Gaius had made best friends with the rest of the staff. They had come to an agreement: Gaius would receive free dessert with the purchase of any meal at that Waffle House as well as one free meal a week. The Waffle House got to install the chocolate fountain as a permanent fixture. The management did not know it was stolen. Luckily, no one cared that it was stolen. The makeshift chocolate fountain Miriel had created proved to be quite popular with the company the original fountain was rented from.  
Gaius yawned. It was about time for a nap. The boombox was still going, though at a lower volume now. Stahl was asleep in his booth and Vaike and Sully were having an arm-wrestling contest to stay awake. A few students continued to dance, but it felt very much like the party was nearing its end.  
No new customers had entered the Waffle House at all between the hours of four and six in the morning. Finally, though, the bell dinged to signify a new entrant, who adjusted the pot on his head in awe at what was, to him, an absolutely breakneck party.  
“Gosh! This ain’t nothin’ like I imagined it would be. New Waffle house with a fountain o’ chocolate, music, dancin’, an’ everything!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deeply hope you enjoyed this work! As it is essentially a first draft, any comments and criticism is welcomed and appreciated. Thank you for reading!


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